That December Morning
by SomethingSimsy
Summary: When Arthur Kirkland (UK) spends time with supposed social-butterfly Alfred Jones (USA), his bitter feelings change. Follow the two on a journey that explores the highs and lows in a discouraged high-school relationship by a community that, from start to finish, has trouble accepting that love can occur between more than only a man and woman. High school AU Homophobia USUK Bullying
1. A morning to regret - Chapter 1

**High school AU – USUK (Alfred x Arthur) fluffy romance with elements of drama (these start in chapter 3) – Hetalia fanfiction**

**When reading, please consider that my writing style in the early stages of this fiction has changed with the nature of the fiction (as it becomes more drama-orientated, it becomes more serious, and in my opinion better). So please, if you could, put up with the writing style in the early chapters, as it improves. Thank you. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

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_Oh_, Arthur thought as he gently pulled back the curtains, exposing the completely blanketed ground outside the window. _It's snowing._

Yes, it was snowing. Although many would be overjoyed at the sight of a white winter, Arthur Kirkland was most definitely _not_. To Arthur, the snow would only mean one thing – _I'm going to fall on my arse, aren't I? _Arthur was correct in his thinking. He most definitely _would _fall on his rear end. But there was one thing he dreaded more about that day than just bruising his behind – being laughed at for it. Arthur let out a deep sigh and started to put on his school uniform, which had been tossed scruffily on the back of a chair. Yes, that very day was the first day back at school after the Christmas holidays, and he was _dreading_ it.

However, there was one thing Arthur _did _look forward to on that day, and that was seeing his neighbour, Alfred Jones. Though of course, the only reason he wanted to see Alfred was to see him_ suffer_! It would, after all, be the American's first winter away from the sunny sand of California, or _wherever _he was from, and there was nothing Arthur wanted to see more than the American _freeze_! Due to Arthur's irritable and bitter nature he never much liked Alfred Jones (as you may have guessed), but he did have a valid reason, according to himself. His hatred began on the first day they met – well, the first day Alfred met Arthur, anyway.

Yes, it was a very awkward 'first' encounter. Although Arthur would _never _admit it, he was overjoyed to meet the new American family that had settled down next door at first. It was true that Arthur had expected them to be loud, annoying and obnoxious but he most definitely _wasn't _the type to rely on stereotypes so preceded forward in the meeting, setting the biggest smile he could summon on his face. He was _slightly less _excited when he realised it was the same popular boy who was in his year at school, Alfred, but we has excited nonetheless – he even went on to greet the boy with his name, expecting the same response in return. But, as was to be expected, his mood quickly darkened when the other boy had no idea of Arthur's name. After a long, awkward silence, Alfred quickly smiled at Arthur and replied simply with "_Hey, you're that kid I've seen around school!_"

It wasn't a particularly satisfying response for Arthur and in fact was quite the opposite, but he smiled politely anyway and the Kirkland family was quickly and quietly invited in. He had decided to at least _try _to get to know the boy and at least _try _to not punch him in the face. It was a real struggle but Arthur learned to deal with his grudge, however much it hurt him inside. Yes, he was dealing with it very well in his opinion. Even the murderous thoughts were starting to decrease in their intensity and volume! He vowed that he would get on with Alfred eventually, but Alfred would have to be the one to make the first move. Arthur had no idea that first move would be dealt that _very same morning_.

Arthur ate breakfast that frosty morning accompanied with a look of dread, and perhaps impending doom. He _knew_ very well that the first day was the worst, and that if he could survive it – which he _would_ – he would be able to survive the whole school year. He also knew that a good start to the day was very important for maintaining a positive mood throughout all of the mandatory six hours school provided, which may have been the reason that his older brothers decided to interfere with that source of happiness shortly after.

Arthur stepped out of the front door, rucksack on back, with a deep sigh. He already knew what was coming before it did, but he couldn't do anything to stop it. He just braced himself, tightened his grip on his backpack, and –

"Pinch, punch; first day of the month!" all his brothers shouted in unison, pinching, punching and pushing him as they said so. Then they all ran off, high-fiving each other and laughing to themselves as they did so.

"It's not even the first day of the –! Hey, come back!" He (rather poorly) retaliated, turning in the direction his brothers ran off to. Unfortunately, this was a mistake.

Arthur started slipping on ice. He yelped and frantically flailed, truly fearing for his life (much to his later embarrassment). "He-he-help!" he stuttered, but started to regret it. He had already heard footsteps from nearby, and that meant –

"I'll save you, Artie!" a mysterious, loud, annoying, obnoxious voice shouted – well, it's not _that _mysterious when you think about it for half a second.

'_Oh no, anyone but him! Anyone but him!' _Arthur pleaded internally, groaning at the thought of being saved by such an insufferable git who out-rightly refused to _even _call him by his respectable, proper name, _thank you very much_! But, it was _him _or nothing. Arthur would have ordinarily chosen _nothing _but unfortunately for him the American was already running at lightning-speed toward him. He had accepted it was too late by then; he would just have to apologise for the inconvenience he had caused and –

A set of strong hands tightly gripped Arthur by the shoulders, steadying him – well, that was what Alfred _hoped _would happen. He hadn't anticipated the shakes Arthur suddenly found himself experiencing, or what going at _lightning-speed _on what was essentially an ice rink lead to.

Alfred skidded on the ice just inches behind Arthur and literally crashed into him, sending both of them flying to the ground like a bowling ball on bowling pins. Arthur wasn't the kind that was built to function with unidentified human contact, and the involuntary reflex to throw off his attacker kicked in. But Alfred was much too strong for him.

As Arthur struggled to manoeuvre himself from under the, in his opinion, rather _weighty _American, he found himself feeling claustrophobic. He cursed the boy who was_ literally _crushing him to death; _he did not like to be man-handled_!

Despite all of the things he _could _have said and done to Alfred, Arthur wanted to retain his 'gentlemanly image' and so took the clear-headed approach to the situation, much like a peaceful monk or scholar with much less grace. He eventually settled on a strangled and long-awaited "Get off me", trying to shove the boy crushing him to the curb. Alfred started to laugh and got up off his feet with ease, offering a hand to the flattened and flustered Arthur, who carried on lying on the pavement like a beached whale.

Without even considering Alfred's offer, his polite mask suddenly vanishing, Arthur helped himself up and quickly brushed the hand away and scoffed at the American, turning to set on his way again. If there was one thing Arthur was it was sensible, and going outside those boundaries was a dangerous game to play! As mothers should always tell their children; _don't play with fire_!

When Arthur had only walked just a few feet away Alfred shouted out to him, reaching an arm as if to try and grab onto him, a clear sense of guilt and wrong-doing in his voice, "Artie, wait! I didn't mean to..." he said, his words trailing off. But it was enough to make Arthur want to turn around.

Ah, Arthur couldn't walk away from such a hurting voice – he was the cause for said hurt, after all, and was such a softy at heart (although he would _never _admit it). He straightened his tie and dusted off his blazer and turned fully to face the American again, convincing himself the only reason for him doing it was to correct him from using that _stupid _nickname!

"Don't worry about it, Alfred. I–" But before Arthur could speak anymore, Alfred interrupted him.

"That's great, Artie, I'm glad we're friends again! Do you want to walk to school together?" he said, a gleam in his eye. Arthur, however, was quite taken aback from such a display. A lot of what came out of Alfred's mouth bewildered him completely;_ when did we even _become _friends, and why would he want me as a friend; he's already the most popular guy in school_, Arthur wondered, scratching the back of his neck, and then he remembered something vital again, _and when did I say he could call me 'Artie'? _

"Erm, yeah, Alfred, I'm glad too. But please do refrain from calling me 'Artie'; I'd rather you called me by my proper name, 'Arthur.'" he said with a polite smile in place. Hopefully that would stop him from _finally _using that _awful _nickname. The two barely even knew each other; even Alfred must have known that pet names are _entirely indecent _for two people who have never had a proper conversation together, _right_? Or was _that _conversation _the _conversation?

"Oh, well, I guess so, but are we still walking to school together?"

"Erm," Arthur said with a pause, but then quietly sighed in defeat, "sure, if it's okay with you–"

"_Of course _it's okay with me," Alfred shouted, aligning himself next to the other boy, a playful smile spreading across his face like a contagious disease, "_Artie!_" Alfred tried with a playful punch to the arm. Arthur, as if by reflex, instantly cringed. The two started walking to school together, despite this.

Suddenly all hopes of becoming good friends with Alfred were obliterated with the use of that very name. _Making friends with such a kind of person would be a lot of hard work, and he would require _so much_ attention_, Arthur thought, trying to subtly out-walk Alfred, who had forcibly made himself practically shoulder-to-shoulder with poor Arthur. Such thoughts only led Arthur to sigh in defeat again. _This is certainly going to be a long, long day._

"Hey, Artie, do you want to walk home together, as well? I'll wait for you by the gates, okay?" Alfred asked with a beaming smile, and then responded almost instantly, without even _waiting _for an answer.

_A _very _long day, indeed..._

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**Hey readers, I hope that wasn't too bad! If you did like it please review (or alternatively give me criticism, it's always helpful!) and stay tuned, as I should be updating again before the New Year, and hopefully long after as well! Thanks for reading ^w^ !**


	2. A moment to remember - Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

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As promised, Alfred waited by the school gates for Arthur. Arthur was quite shocked when he saw the dopy smile of the blonde looking up at him from afar; he didn't expect that Alfred would _actually _wait for him, though he didn't seem _that bad _a person to have just lied about it for a joke. Then again, he didn't know the other boy all too well, and you can _never _be _too_ careful! Yes, so with that theory in mind, Arthur walked to the gates with his head held high and –

"Hey, Artie!" Alfred shouted, practically bouncing up and down with enthusiasm.

Arthur tried to mask the sheer discomfort the loud American inflicted upon him, with little success. "Y-yes, hello, Alfred, but please do not call me–"

"Yeah, yeah, _Arthur_, I get it!" He said lightly, rolling his eyes. _Oh, _Arthur thought, slightly happier with his situation, _at least he got my name right, but wait, doesn't that mean he called me that on purpose_–

"Hey!" Alfred shouted, waving his hand in front of Arthur's eyes so fast it was a blur. "Stop zoning out on me, dude! Gosh, you're, like, as bad as me!" he laughed, patting Arthur playfully on the back. He apparently couldn't sense how uncomfortable this made Arthur, even when he felt him tense up momentarily. He had never really understood people's emotions, and wasn't really a people-person _at all_, even if he was the most popular student in the _entire _school! In this sense he was a lot like Arthur (minus the 'popular' part), but then again, they were complete opposites. It would take a long time for Arthur to get used to Alfred, but he really hoped that it would be worthwhile. In fact, he _knew _it would be worthwhile. Alfred had to be popular for a reason, right?

Arthur half-forcibly laughed, trying to ease the tension only _he_ felt. "Y-yeah, if you'll excuse that, Alfred, I didn't mean to. So, do you want to start going?"

"Yeah, but I promised my brother that I would pick up dinner, so, um, you don't mind, do you?" he laughed nervously, running a shaking hand through his hair. Arthur let his thoughts wander; it really did make him worry to see Alfred so nervous, even over something so trivial, and the silent shakes and nervous giggles _really _didn't suit him. He couldn't quite lay a finger on what was _really _bothering Alfred so much, but Arthur immediately snapped back to reality when he felt the intense gaze of the other boy settled upon him.

"N-no, sure, go ahead." Arthur mumbled, looking up at the taller boy with a faint smile. This was enough to make Alfred smile brightly in return. He grabbed Arthur's wrist and lightly pulled him along behind him. Arthur instantly tensed up, but soon found himself relaxing, and smiling to himself. He felt his cheeks burn and focused on the gentle yet secure grip around his wrist. Nobody had ever got so close to Arthur before. Close contact wasn't even common in his family! But Arthur knew that for Alfred it meant nothing, which made his self-worth plummet; he was certainly making _something _out of _nothing_, to the point of it being pathetic! But he held onto the moment and let Alfred hold onto him, for it was something he would want to remember for quite a while after.

Before Arthur had even realised he found himself entering what appeared to be a café. The smell of pastries and coffee carried on warm air hit him instantly as he walked in. He was truly entranced by the smells and feelings of the café, but there was one thing he was mesmerised by _more_.

The grip around Arthur's wrist loosened and what held him so dearly before pulled away. He didn't dare do anything to stop it, though. It was just one of those things he would have to hang on to, even as the thing he was trying to remember pulled away, as if it was nothing, _because _it was nothing. Yes, that was it. Arthur was just overreacting. He was over thinking it – that was all! As long as he remembered _that, _he would think clearly again.

"Hey, Artie, I'm just going to go get my groceries. Do you want anything?" Alfred smiled. Now _that _was something Arthur knew the answer to. He would simply and politely say no, that was the only way! He started to psych himself up, and–

"D-do they have tea?" Arthur blurted out, _instantly _regretting his words. _Damn, Arthur, why would you say that, you know how to be polite_, Arthur internally shouted, arguing with his inner self. But Arthur was smart. He knew _just _how to fix such a mess. "I'll pay! Don't worry, Alfred, I have the money, h-here," he said, revealing a crumpled five pound note from his pocket, "here, a-and please, keep the change." Arthur offered a sheepish smile and his money, but Alfred only chuckled and shook his head.

"Don't sweat it, Artie, I have this covered," Alfred said with another beaming smile and chuckle, and when Arthur opened his mouth to protest he continued, "think of it as a way for me to pay you back for earlier, yeah?"

"P-pay me back? B-but you did nothing wrong!" Arthur protested, a pout appearing on his lips. Alfred could only laugh _once again _in response, moving his hand toward the top of Arthur's head but then stopping and settling for patting him on the shoulder instead.

"Don't worry, Artie. Go find yourself a table and I'll join you in a minute." he said, turning away from Arthur to walk up to the cashier at the counter. Arthur couldn't argue any longer and, defeated, started scanning the room for an empty table. Despite the café's appeal to Arthur, almost all of the tables were free. Arthur selected one by the window and sat down, resting his chin on one of his hands, staring motionlessly out of the window onto the high street before him.

In just a matter of minutes Alfred settled down at the table with a tray that held two mugs and a plastic plate which appeared to be holding –

"Pancakes?" Arthur said with a raised eyebrow, glancing between the plate and Alfred. He awkwardly chuckled and nodded, settling himself down on a chair opposite Arthur. He moved one mug in front of Arthur and one in front of himself with a smile. Arthur quickly scoffed and moved his hand toward his pocket, but before he could speak Alfred interrupted him with a quick shake of his head.

"I already told you, Artie, I'm paying, okay?" he said, picking up his mug and taking a sip before slamming it down on the table with a bang, sticking his tongue out and wafting the air around it with his hand!

"Is it hot?" Arthur asked, biting back a smile but still sounding concerned. Alfred looked to him and nodded dopily, his head bobbing up and down like an excited child. Arthur quietly chuckled but quickly muted it with the palm of his hand, a look of embarrassment and shame coating his face. _How could I be so improper, oh no, I've probably scared him away now_, Arthur screamed internally, but Alfred's next move shocked him deeply.

Alfred only chuckled in response, lifting Arthur's hand away from his face gently. Arthur looked up in shock as a deep pink colour dusted his cheeks, only to turn away again, the corners of his lips turning up involuntarily. Alfred followed suit.

That moment was perfect, for both Arthur _and _Alfred. But it wasn't going to last for _either _of the boys, as they would soon find out as when they reluctantly left the café for their homes, _and_ the people inside of them.

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**Fluff-overdose! But don't worry – the next chapter will contain more drama and turmoil (I'm so**** evil)! Stay tuned!**


	3. A memory to forget - Chapter 3

- **This has been edited since it was first uploaded.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

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The two found themselves embarrassingly smiling to themselves as they walked back to their homes together. They parted ways with an awkward pat on the back, and with a final "goodbye", as they each closed the front door to their houses, they separated themselves from each other, which created the _perfect _opportunity for their housemates to shove their noses where they _really_ didn't belong.

"Why are you so late, Arthur?" a red-headed man commanded as Arthur tried to sneak into the house unnoticed, his giddy smile fading in an instant. Although the man sounded calm and indifferent there was aggression in that voice, buried so deeply a passerby may not be able to pick it up, but Arthur could. Arthur _always _could. There was no way to evade it; that voice would not stop pestering and persisting until it had got what it's owner wanted. Arthur would have to try and match it; it was his only way out. He inhaled deeply, stuck out his chest and closed his eyes gently. He opened them.

"What's it to you, Allistor?" Arthur said with a wince, knowing he sounded increasingly weak. He carefully tried to choose his next words. But he found Allistor staring at him expectantly. Talking on the spot was always a risky game, but he swallowed and continued. "How come... how come..." but it was too late. His mind went blank under the pressure. He had lost. He _always _lost.

Allitsor didn't take notice of Arthur's pathetic babblings and continued without a word against him, or any reaction at all. "I am your _brother_, Arthur, and brothers stick together. I am also your _legal guardian_ if you needed reminding, so I have to make sure you are safe at_ all _times."

Arthur sighed. It was the samespeech as _all_ the other times. He wasn't sure whether he preferred this or not.

"Yes, Allistor." Arthur agreed blankly, like an obedient dog. It was clear Allistor thought of Arthur this way as well, but perhaps with a pinch of care behind the whole façade_. _

Allistor truly did care for Arthur and even love him, but he was finding it hard to decide around that time whether his love was like that of an equal, or that of a guardian. He soon decided that this sort of love was called 'brotherly' and left it at that so he could simply_get on_ with his job of being the head of the household, not that the position was fairly new to him.

After a long and thoughtful pause Allistor finally nodded in return. He debated whether to continue his interrogation of Arthur or not, but when he took note of Arthur's frustration with him he sighed in defeat and signalled that Arthur had been dismissed from their conversation. Arthur nodded thankfully in return, and ran to his room.

Arthur slammed the door shut and found himself sitting on his bed in a daze, just smiling happily to himself. By that point in his hypnotic spell he had forgotten the dreaded encounters with Allistor; without those he was at peace in his mind, and when he was peaceful, a genuinely happy smile etched its way onto his face. It was a rare sight, but it was one he liked to see upon himself. He was happy; how often did_that_ happen?

"I can't believe this is just happening to_ me_..." the teen whispered to himself, half of his words fading into a light chuckle.

Arthur moved to his desk, the one right by his window, and he started on his work for the day. However, he was finding it a struggle to concentrate. With a light sigh he pushed back the curtains and opened the window, a light and chilly breeze shaking the heavy material of the curtains ever so slightly. The breeze caught his face and ruffled his hair. He smiled again, sitting himself down and picking up a book. Then, he looked up.

Alfred was spinning round and round on what must have been a computer chair, mindlessly flicking through a text book. He sighed to himself and chucked the book onto his bed. _I'm not doing that_, he thought with a bored expression. Then, he looked up.

Arthur and Alfred were caught, and their eyes widened at this prospect. Alfred smiled gleefully and Arthur smiled a fraction less brightly in return, but still, he smiled, ever a rare occurrence.

"Hey, Artie!" Alfred shouted, but was only replied with a confused look and shrug from Arthur. Alfred's frown quickly lifted though and he smiled his ever bright smile again, undoing the latch on his window and pushing it open.

Alfred tried again. "Hey, Artie, I–"

"Dinner's ready! If you don't eat your pancakes, _I _will!"

Alfred blushed sheepishly and turned his head toward the source of the interruption. "Yeah, okay Mattie, I'll come down in a minute!" Alfred shouted in reply, once again turning his full attention back to Arthur with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry Artie, I'll be back in a second–"

"Your brother's cooking pancakes for dinner?" Arthur questioned with an eyebrow raised. _Alfred _really _is unusual_, Arthur thought with an inward laugh.

"Y-yeah, it's pretty silly, right?" Alfred laughed nervously. _Please just let this conversation end,_ _I _beg _you_, Alfred pleaded inside his head, fear building up inside him at an alarming rate. _Just don't let him ask. Just _don't _let him ask about –_

"Can your parents not cook anything better?"

_It was too late_.

Alfred suddenly felt a growing lump jam in his throat, making it hard for him to breathe. He couldn't go through this again; it was the reason for him having to move before! But he managed to swallow it, allowing a single droplet to form in his eye, before it quickly spilled. _Arthur won't notice from such a distance, it's fine, everything is fine_, Alfred reassured himself inwardly, but in reality he knew everything _wasn't _fine. But for the sake of his dignity, for the sake of _everything_, he would have to pretend. He would _have _to be fake.

"N-no, they can't." Alfred said as loudly and boldly as he could, but his voice cracked. He just hoped Arthur had enough _decency_ to ignore it. Luckily, he did.

"Oh, okay." Arthur mumbled, looking up at Alfred with a smile. He already knew Alfred wouldn't return it, but Arthur continued anyway in any bid to rid Alfred of his problems, and to be polite and not to intrude. That was the Kirkland way, after all! It was the _best _way.

Getting involved just confuses things, makes the strings more knotted. So it's best to keep your distance. That way, less people get hurt. That way, you still feel warm in the coldest of places. That way, you don't find yourself suffocating with no one to help you. So was the way. So was the way Arthur was _told_, by none other than _Allistor_.

"If you'll excuse me, Arthur." Alfred muttered with a polite smile, getting out of his chair.

Arthur couldn't help but notice how Alfred had used his real name over his much-hated nickname, but in that moment he just wanted him to call him Artie again. He tried to stop him from leaving.

"W-wait, Alfred, I, um, would you mind if _I_ cooked for you?" Arthur smiled as invitingly as he could, not really taking in what he was saying. Arthur _knew_ he couldn't cook to save his life, but he just wanted, no, he just _needed _to help Alfred in any way he could. _Just say yes_, Arthur started chanting in his mind. _Just say yes, Alfred, please, I want to help you, I want to–_

"O-okay, Arthur, okay. But only quickly." he mumbled with a faked smile. Alfred didn't know why he had accepted. He only wanted to be alone; he didn't even want to be with his brother, Matthew, but for whatever reason he couldn't think of he had accepted. _Maybe I just don't want to disappoint him_, Alfred told himself, but then he couldn't help himself from thinking what he knew the true answer was. _Maybe I just don't want my life to turn upside-down again._

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**I hope that wasn't a little _too_ different from the fluff-mania before, but things will be less dark and drama-y next time. Tune in next time to see Arthur's sizzling cooking skills put to the test in Alfred's kitchen!**


	4. A truth as cold as December - Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

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Arthur never really _was_ the best at confrontation.

When a teen around the same age and size of him opened the door with a hockey stick in hand demanding "Who are you?", Arthur didn't really know how to respond, other than with one of the most _ridiculous answers _you can reply to someone who is asking of _your _identity when you are knocking on _their_ front door _persistently_ when it is _night-time_.

"And _who_ are _you_?"

_Yes._ _Arthur really is that stupid sometimes. _

"I _live _here," the other boy said, his guard softening – but only slightly. "And _I _asked _you _first, if you do not mind, so please, answer me."

"I am a... _friend _of Alfred Jones, and your neighbour, Arthur Kirkland." Arthur said, with an inside triumphant smile (though he would never _display it_ – after all, some _crazed lunatic _stood at the door _wielding a hockey stick, for goodness sake_). Luckily for Arthur, the other's guard softened once again and he moved the hockey stick from in front of him to his side, but it still hanged mercilessly from his hand, and the two stayed wary of each other.

"Oh, well, okay then, Arthur. I'm Matthew, Alfred's brother."

_Oh, _Arthur thought with a smile, _so _this _is Matthew, Alfred's brother _(as though Matthew _hadn't _just said that). _In that case then, he's the one I should consult about the dinner of pancakes!_

"Yes, well, I sort of got invited over to cook dinner... for you both, if that's alright." Arthur said with an embarrassed smile. He hadn't _really _realised until then what a _ridiculous request_ it _really was_! He was visiting his friend's house in the early hours of the evening to cook him dinner? It was _strange_ to say the least, but Arthur went ahead with it _anyway_, sighing inwardly as he did so.

Matthew was taken aback with such a request, but sighed quietly and nodded. "Well, I suppose you better come in then. We don't want you waiting out by yourself even if it _is _only five in the afternoon, now that's it winter and it's dark earlier _anything_ could be out there! Bears, wolves... the lot, really!"

Matthew was only (_half_) joking in order to lift the previous tension (threatening someone with a hockey stick is never _really _the best way to make new friends), but he had Arthur hanging on his every word! Matthew quietly chuckled and patted Arthur on the shoulder, telling him "Well, you'd better come inside then, huh?" with a (_seemingly_) innocent grin on his face. Arthur nodded and quickly found himself running past Matthew until he found himself stood in a panic in the middle of the hallway, which made him feel entirely _silly_.

Once Arthur and Matthew had both calmed down, he found himself properly introducing himself to Matthew, and Matthew doing the same in return. Matthew had decided that Arthur wasn't as bad as he _immediately _looked. He would try and warm up to the other boy for his brother's sake – _any friend of Alfred's is a friend of mine_, he told himself, sitting next to Arthur on their sofa.

"So, um, Arthur, I don't mean to be rude, but why are you here?" Matthew said with a smile. Arthur cringed at what he knew he had to say in return.

"Well, Alfred said that you were having pancakes for dinner and..." Arthur stopped, realising he didn't want to _insult _the increasingly shier boy before him! Yes, he would have to be _delicate _about the matter – according to Alfred, cooking was a big deal to him, especially the _art _of cooking _pancakes_! "I wanted to give you a night off. I realise your parents don't cook for you so often so I'd like to help you out with that, if that's okay." Arthur said with a single nod. Then he realised his mistake. He'd already made _one_ person upset that day; he didn't want to make it _two_!

"Oh, um, n-no, I didn't mean to mention–"

"Don't worry, Arthur," Matthew said gently with a faint smile to match, "it's fine. And that's very kind of you to offer, and if you really want to, I wouldn't mind." he said with a light and friendly shrug. Arthur smiled back.

Arthur was glad to be warming up to Alfred's brother and hoped Matthew felt the same, which incidentally he did, and the two were getting on _surprisingly well_! But good things never last. When their brief conversation _did _come to a close, they were left with the original, impending quest – "So, do you want to start cooking?"

_Oh_, Arthur thought with a gulp. He had been so absorbed with his conversation with Matthew he had completely _forgotten _about the 'cooking dinner thing'. Well, he would _have to _go ahead with it.

"Yes, sure, why not." Arthur said with what was _supposed _to be a confident smile. It _wasn't_.

Matthew got up from his position on the sofa and made his way to the kitchen, Arthur following closely behind. He hoped Matthew would teach him _how _to cook, but then he realised that he _probably assumed _he could cook _already_, considering that was _supposedly _the reason _for_ his visit.

When they reached the kitchen, Arthur noticed that there was a pack-worth of pancakes stacked on top of each other on the paper plate they came on. Arthur then realised he had _no idea _what he planned on cooking instead. So, in yet _another _way to make himself look like an idiot, he spoke.

"So, err, I have nothing to cook."

"Oh, well, I still have to cook some pancakes, if you'd like to cook them."

"Well, okay." Arthur shook his head internally. _You idiot, this is the reason you visited Alfred in the first place, isn't it? You were _supposed _to be cooking him something _other_ than pancakes!_ He could only answer his thoughts with another shake of his head, and then he got to work.

Arthur failed to mention that he couldn't _actually _cook. He couldn't cook _at all_. But there was a first time for everything, right?

Arthur avoided the impending doom of the stove and started looking in all of the cupboards for plates. _This should act as a good distraction_, he thought with a subtle smug smile to himself, glancing occasionally back at Matthew who was starting to position pancakes on a frying pan.

When Arthur looked back after _finally _finding the right cupboard, Matthew was holding the pan out toward Arthur, full of pancakes that he had cooked. Well, it looked like Arthur would be cooking with no instructions from there on out – going in blind – but he didn't worry, it's _totally _his style. It's called _failing_.

"Oh, err, here," Arthur said, getting a plate from above him and putting it in front of Matthew. Matthew smiled and, much to Arthur's curiosity, handed _him _the pan with the pancakes on.

"Arthur, do you have much experience in cooking?" Matthew asked suddenly, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side.

"Err," Arthur mumbled, trying to look _anywhere _but into Matthew's eyes, but then he gave up. "I can cook instant noodles."

Matthew smiled sympathetically and _secretly_ held back a sigh. He took the pan back from him, tipped it up slightly so the pancakes fell onto the plate, and turned back to the stove. "It would be great if you could take those pancakes up to Alfred," he said. "And, well, I cooked these earlier for _myself_, but, if you're hungry, _you_ can have them," he blushed shyly, handing a plate of pancakes to Arthur as he spoke.

Arthur nodded and went upstairs carrying both plates of pancakes as Matthew started to cook for himself, y'know, _for a change_. "Oh, and Arthur, Alfred's room is in first door you'll see!"

Arthur made his way up the stairs and to the door he was sure Alfred's room was behind, knocked twice, and pressed his ear to the surface, waiting for a response. Within a few seconds the door was suddenly pulled inwards, leaving Arthur to stumble forwards, only to be caught by Alfred, leaving them _both _utterly surprised.

"A-Arthur?" Alfred asked, taking the other boy by the shoulders and steadying him, quickly placing the plates on his bed. "What are you doing here?"

Alfred's eyes were still slightly red and his cheeks blotchy, but his voice showed no sign of cracking again. Arthur didn't _dare _say anything, though. It would only worsen the situation; he was sure of it.

"You said I could come over, didn't you?" Arthur smiled nervously. He really didn't make Alfred more upset than he already was, and if that meant leaving, he would do so without hesitation.

"Y-yeah, I did, a-and I want you to... stay." Alfred said, struggling to find the right words, looking away from Arthur. Arthur nodded in response, a wave of nerves _surprisingly_ spreading over him. He felt his stomach start to tighten, and he started focusing on breathing in and out in an attempt to calm himself down, which it didn't. He knew it was _ridiculous_ but he _couldn't help himself_ from feeling that way. If anything, _Alfred_ should be feeling like that. Little did Arthur know that he _was _feeling the same way, he just never said anything. Then again, _neither _did Arthur.

"O-oh, okay." Arthur _eventually _responded. What _else_ could Alfred want him to say? Arthur was finding it hard enough to stay calm as it was, and as for Alfred? Alfred _must_ have been an emotional _wreck_! Arthur had never seen him sad in the whole time he had been in their school, for what must have been several months, maybe even half a year, but for him to cry? That was something else _entirely_. He had never expected Alfred to be the kind to _ever _cry, but for him to uncontrollably do so in front of _Arthur_? It was truly shocking, out of character, even! Or, what his character appeared to be, anyway.

The tension between the two increased. What could they say to each other? Nothing, and so nothing was said. Eventually though, Alfred started, avoiding the topic that was eating away at the back of their minds alike.

"So, you met my brother, then?" Alfred said, attempting a smile. Arthur only nodded in response, leaving the two to look around the room awkwardly again, occasionally glancing at each other, but then straight back to the walls, or the floor, or _anywhere_ _but _the person standing opposite them.

Eventually, when the tension between them grew to the size of the entire world itself, Arthur knew he had to go against _all _of his morals, and so he shattered the silence so bluntly and crudely it was painful to hear, or to even _hear of_.

"Please, Alfred. Please tell me why you were crying."

Alfred froze. _So he had noticed_, he muttered internally, a tight lump growing in his throat again, _and he really couldn't just keep it to himself..._

He felt a warm liquid fill the rims of his eyes. Suddenly the warm feeling started to stream down his cheek. It was _impossible_ to hide. He would have to face his fears, whether he was ready or not. He most certainly was _not_.

He breathed in deeply, exhaled, and brought a loosely clenched fist up to his face and rubbed his eyes, trying to wipe any remaining tears away. But it was in vain. They continued to flow despite his efforts. So he was rendered powerless. All his hard work had just _washed_ down the drain with a single slip up. He was weak – so, so, very _weak _– and he had just admitted it, through no action of his own conscious accord. He was just grateful that it was Arthur who saw it, _not_ some random stranger or one of his _friends_ who would make fun of him. It was _just_ _Arthur_. It _didn't_ matter.

Arthur didn't know what to do, but he knew what the _right _thing was and what the _wrong _thing was. But the morals that had been engraved into him seemed to contradict what he was starting to believe was right and wrong. He took a deep breath and found a tiny stroke of courage, enough to disintegrate his morals as he fearlessly jumped into the deep end, head first, with _no_ second thoughts.

Alfred tensed up at the sudden contact he felt wrapping itself around him, but gave in, letting a gentle pair of arms encase him inside of an even gentler embrace.

Alfred started to sniffle and he buried his head into Arthur's shoulder, his tears starting to seep through the thin fabric of his shirt. In that moment the only thing that mattered was Alfred, and Arthur. Both of them as separate entities, but both of them together.

The encounter was long but it never became unwanted, or shameful _or _embarrassing or anything else that _Arthur_, or otherwise _Alfred_, _might_ have felt. They felt simply _fine_. But the sweet feelings _had _to turn bitter if Arthur was to get to finish what he started.

He proceeded in what was one of the hardest things he had to do in his life.

"Please, Alfred, please tell–" But he didn't have to continue any longer.

In the words about to be spoken there was no hesitation or reluctance to share in his tone. No embarrassment or shame, either. He wasn't completely bare or blank, but he didn't say _everything _he could have. But he _was to_ say enough. He said _well _enough. He said all that was required, because he was sure Arthur would understand. If he didn't, he _knew _his heart would break. _Please let everything be fine_, Alfred thought as he pulled Arthur away from him, locking eyes with the boy just _centimetres _from him.

"My parents," Alfred paused and looked away, but looked up again, finding himself feeling completely _reassured _by the inviting smile in front of him. _I can trust that smile_, Alfred told himself with a quick nod to himself, _I can trust Arthur_. "My parents, Arthur..." he found himself faltering again, but with a deep breath and nod from the boy he was putting his entire faith in, he found himself continuing again.

"My parents, Arthur, are _dead_."

He just couldn't stop himself from _lying_.

* * *

**Plot-twist! Plenty more and in store though, just **_**waiting**_** to be dished out (unless you've seen through my plot already, in which case, **_**bollocks**_**)! Tune in next time if you're willing; I should have another update by maybe the first or second of the New Year (I'm putting off all school-work **_**apparently **_**until the last day of the Christmas holidays)! So, Happy New Year, and thanks for all the reviews, follows & favs – it means so much to me!**


	5. I'll hold you tight - Chapter 5

**I hope I didn't confuse you guys **_**too **_**much with my little plot-twist at the end of the last chapter! Don't worry, it will **_**all **_**be explained soon enough!**

**Oh, and not to confuse you, but the story is actually set **_**after **_**the Christmas holidays so takes place in January, despite the fact it is titled with December (I don't know why). **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

* * *

Arthur couldn't believe it. Alfred's parents were _dead_?

He started to feel even more _awful _than he thought was possible. _Why _did he even ask about something that made Alfred _so_ _upset_, when he _knew _he couldn't even _help him _anyway?

Arthur struggled out of Alfred's grip. Without any support Arthur fell almost lifelessly to the floor, landing on his knees with a loud and painful thud, but he didn't seem to take notice. _Arthur _didn't take notice. He sat on his legs and buried his face in his hands, with his elbows leaning on his mid-thighs. His hands started to shake violently, the shuddering soon spreading over his whole body. Then, through the unsteady hands he used to hide himself, came a gentle whimper. Arthur _did _take notice, _as_ did _Alfred_.

"Ar-Arthur..." Alfred muttered, his voice drifting off into silence.

Arthur didn't respond. The American crouched down, becoming eye-level with the whimpering boy across from him, moving his hands away from his face.

_Huh, just like before_, Alfred thought with a solemn smile. But it soon faded.

Arthur soon broke his gaze, and his head dropped down with no complaints. His eyes landed on his lap, his mind else ware, deep in thought. Alfred could only stare, his brow furrowed but his eyes wide open with shock. His mouth began to hang open, stuttering inaudible sounds, trying to form proper words but he just _couldn't_. He was utterly _speechless_. He just _couldn't _think straight. He then wanted to smile, to try and make it all better, but it was just as _impossible_.

Arthur's happiness was _his_ happiness, and Arthur's sadness was _his_ sadness. Or, was this how two humans normally interacted? Alfred wasn't sure; was it _normal _to feel happiness when other's feel it, to feel sadness when other's experience it? But it couldn't have been. The two had grown so close over such a minuscule period of time, with so little words or interaction; it was quite outstanding, amazing, if not _magical_. It was clear their friendship was just _meant to be_. They were _connected_, and the connection could only grow _stronger_. It _would _only grow stronger.

"Arthur," Alfred repeated especially softly, getting down on both knees and pulling Arthur towards him.

Arthur stayed comfortably within the arms that wrapped around either side of him, but he eventually lifted both of his arms which hanged lifelessly at his sides to Alfred's, where they then wrapped themselves like a bow around his upper back. Arthur buried his head in Alfred's shoulder, muting his heavy breaths and sniffling.

Alfred hesitantly rubbed Arthur's back, surprisingly alienated by the thought of the emotional support he was _suppose _to be giving. No, it's not _too _surprising. Alfred _isn't _a people-person; he never was, plain and simple. He was also _completely bewildered_ as to why Arthur was so upset following his _own_ emotional outburst. No, it's not _too _bewildering. Arthur must have simply _cared _about Alfred, but all Alfred repaid him with was _lies_.

Simply mentioning Alfred's parents to him was enough to send him over the edge; _they_ aren't a topic he could easily reminisce about. He had originally thought that putting _them_ off as _dead _would help, but it didn't. In fact, it didn't do _anything at all_. The words and image of his parents continued to burn into his mind _anyway_. _They_ were too strong. _They_ were too powerful. _He _was too _powerless_.

Alfred tried to put his own thoughts aside. "Arthur, please, tell me what's wrong." Alfred insisted, sending an attempt at a smile at Arthur. It was hard going, but he forced himself to do it nonetheless. He_ was _strong_. _He_ did _have power_. _

"D-don't worry," Arthur muttered, resting his cheek on Alfred's shoulder so his mouth was exposed and his voice was no longer being muffled by the soft fabric of Alfred's sweater. "I was only worrying about _you_, so stop worrying over _me_." Arthur said with a smile, whether to Alfred or himself was unclear, but he nuzzled himself into Alfred's shoulder again. He allowed his eyelids to gently close as he hugged Alfred tighter.

Alfred didn't have time to appreciate the moment he found himself in; he only had time to _think_. _I can't imagine why he's so concerned, _Alfred thought, looking almost absently to the boy gripping onto him so tightly below. _I had the nerve to lie to him. _Why _did I _lie _to him?_

Arthur was completely _oblivious_ to Alfred's innermost turmoil and kept clutching onto him for dear life, which only drenched him in an ice-cold puddle of filthy, filthy _guilt_. Alfred couldn't look at the boy below him anymore, it was too painful. He had blatantly _lied _to him after all, and for what, to spare himself his _entire life_? Then, Alfred started to consider this with a _lot_ more thought.

_Yes,_ he thought as he rested his head on top of Arthur's; _I had to lie, for both of our sake's_. He of course _knew _he only lied for his _own _sake, but what would the truth have done for Arthur, _anyway_? It wasn't life changing to Arthur, only Alfred, and not in a particularly _happy way_, either! _So what _if Alfred had _lied_? It was to _protect _himself! It was to protect _everyone_! The world is a lot _nicer _when you play _happy families _and doing so would be beneficial for _everyone_, even if the main victor _was _Alfred! Alfred _wasn't _even the selfish one! Why wouldn't the world just let Alfred _win _for a change? Why couldn't _he_ be the victor? _Why _was the world so _cruel_? _Why _–?

"A-Alfred?"

Alfred suddenly directed his full most attention to Arthur, who was looking intently up at him.

"Y-yeah?" Alfred smiled as warmly as he could manage.

"I... I'm sorry," Arthur said, turning his attention back to Alfred's shoulder where he continued to rest his cheek. Alfred only smiled in return, ruffling the blonde hair of the smaller boy below him, which he happily accepted.

"You didn't do anything, Artie." He smiled. Arthur smiled back with relief; the tension had finally _eased_, and they both could be _happy_ again! Even though Arthur had _a lot _more questions, he wouldn't press, at least not in that day. He had caused enough damage, but _seemingly _for the better. He had finally found out Alfred's secret, which he _did_ only discover he even owned an hour or so earlier. But that was nothing but good news to him. It was likely in Arthur's mind that Alfred had it bottled up for a while, hidden deep inside, and if he could reveal a memory as painful as _that _then he could reveal _anything_. Arthur smiled to himself in pure delight. It was clear in Arthur's mind that he really could help Alfred, and he most certainly had no intention of stopping himself from giving him well-deserving therapy. He was good for him, he was sure of it, and Alfred was good for him, too.

Arthur was positive that he and Alfred were to become the closest of friends. And he was _never _wrong. He had been right about helping Alfred. He _had _helped Alfred, _hadn't he_?

After another half an hour or so of sitting in the comfortable silence they shared, Arthur politely decided to leave, mentioning the lack of light outside and that "Allistor must be worrying" with an increasingly pink, then red, haze on his skin. Alfred simply agreed. The two then made their way quietly down the stairs and to the front door, where Arthur awkwardly waved his hand to Alfred, which Alfred did with a lot more confidence in return. But inside, Alfred was _trembling_.

_Just tell Arthur the truth, Alfred, just tell him the truth about mom and dad_, Alfred demanded internally, starting to curse as Arthur turned away from him. _Just tell him the truth, Alfred, you idiot – just tell him the truth!_

But he couldn't. Alfred couldn't get the words out, and he was truly _disgusted _with himself.

Alfred watched Arthur walk away from him, glancing back every few seconds, taking each step so painfully slowly it was as if –

Alfred couldn't stop himself from thinking what was eating away at the back of his brain; did Arthur know Alfred was _lying _to him?

Alfred _knew_ he was being ridiculous. Of _course _Arthur didn't know he was lying. Arthur _assumed _Alfred had his _entire faith _put in him, and that he trusted him _completely_. After all, Alfred _did_ entrust him with his _darkest secret_, didn't he? And what kind of _monster _would make something up like that about their _own flesh and blood_, anyway? Only somebody who truly _believed it_, or truly _wanted _it to come true! And _why _would Alfred want _that_?

_Why_ would Alfred _want_ his parents to be _dead_?

* * *

**This chapter was a bit uneventful, but don't worry, it picks up! In the next few chapters, Alfred is going to start spilling the beans (I wonder if it's obvious), and in the direct next chapter, Alfred and Artie go to school (wait, nope, wait for what I'm about to say) and **_**somebody **_**makes a move (can't guarantee it's entirely successful, though)! **

**In the meantime, I'd love to hear your feedback; whether it's criticism, complements or just anything else you'd like to comment on! Thanks for reading so far!**


	6. I'll let you go - Chapter 6

**Thanks guys for all your reviews, favourites and follows, it means so much! Sorry I haven't replied to any reviews yet (despite me constantly asking for all your feedback; but don't worry, I have read every message and they just all make me smile! You guys are so nice to me!), I didn't know whether you guys would find it annoying or not (me spamming up your inbox's and all), but I've written a quick thanks and have replied a bit at the end of this chapter, so please don't throw anything at me! **

**(PS. This whole chapter isn't only centred on Artie and Allistor, if you start to think that whilst reading. Plus, we meet a new character and catch up with the school drama – such **_**fun**_**, right? (Bare with me here guys; it's all part of my master plan!))**

**(PPS. As other's have said, I have used italics a gazillion-trillion-billion times, so I've edited it! Thanks for your advice, guys!)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

* * *

When Arthur got home, Allistor got angry.

Arthur hadn't _exactly_ notified Allistor that he would leave the previous night, but he didn't believe that Allistor would worry too much; after all, he was only visiting a neighbour! But, in truth, that wasn't the reason. In truth, Arthur just didn't care, or at least, he pretended not to.

When Arthur did return home Allistor was at the door, his arms tightly folded and his brow tightly furrowed. It was exactly what Arthur had hoped _wouldn't _happen, but it was _exactly _what he knew _would_. But an angry Allistor was soon left bickering to himself in an empty hallway, as Arthur was '_so _tired'. But boy, oh, boy; Allistor sure was tiring.

The lecture continued as soon as Arthur woke up the next morning, too. Allistor followed him around the house like an annoying child begging for attention, but Arthur stopped listening to his rant as to be honest it was all rather _boring_. In truth, Allistor was being a very stroppy teenager who needed to grow up if he was ever to become a proper parent, though of course, he _wasn't _a parent to speak of, but he'd taken the role against his will.

Although Allistor often spared the details, his and Arthur's and all their other sibling's parents were _dead_. They died when Arthur was young, though, so he didn't really remember them. Allistor, however, did, and they were not the kindest of people – but that's another story! Allistor took role as head of the household, and if he was to raise his brother's to be successful men, he had to do it in the right way.

"Hey!"

Arthur snapped round to glare at the source of the racket. It was, _of course_, Allistor, shouting at him _once again_.

"What, _Allistor_?" Arthur snapped back like a hungry piranha.

"You need to eat your breakfast," The eldest of the two demanded, pushing a plate of buttered toast toward him. "It keeps your brain goin'. Do you _want _to fail school, Artie?"

Arthur sighed. "What, like _you _did?" he muttered, turning his cheek on him, resisting the urge to look at Allistor who he _expected _to be _crying_. Then, from the corner of his eye, he looked.

Allistor was staring at him, same stern, pissed-off expression marked on his face as before, _completely unaffected_. Arthur could only sigh again, turning his attention back to the toast on the table. Allistor was so hard to break, which was very frustrating for Arthur, as Allistor could break _him_ so easily! Look at him, surrendering without even putting up a fight! _Why _was he eating the toast he really didn't want? Maybe, just maybe, he knew Allistor was right sometimes, and he hated him for it. Or he just wanted to avoid an argument over something as stupid as _toast_.

Arthur took a bite of the overcooked bread, sulkily avoiding the watchful eyes of his older brother who continued to stare him down until he had eaten half of it. Then, Allistor smiled. Arthur assumed it was out of victory. Allistor, however, didn't _care _what Arthur thought, as his baby brother had respected his _correct _decision, and that was enough for him. Ah, _brotherhood_. It was something both of them wanted, but something neither wanted to share with the other party involved, this feeling especially ringing true for Arthur.

"Well, I'm off then," Arthur said, swinging his school bag over his shoulder, "and I'll be staying over at the neighbour's tonight."

"'The neighbour's'?" Allistor said with a raised eyebrow. "_What _'neighbours'? The ones you _neglected _to tell me about _yesterday_?"

"Yes, actually, _those _neighbours." Arthur snapped back, becoming rather irritated. Why did Allistor nag at him for _everything_? "I don't know how long I'll be there, so don't wait for me."

"I'm still gonna, y'know. It's a responsible guardian's duty to –"

"_Yes_, _yes_, I very much _do _know but I am _considerate _enough to warn you this time so you don't have another _hissy fit_!" Arthur huffed, getting quite worked up himself.

Allistor only rolled his eyes in Arthur's direction and made his way over to the front door, Arthur following reluctantly behind at a respectable distance, of course.

"You be good now, Artie," Allistor said, opening the door for Arthur who immediately began to walk through, turning his back on his brother as quickly as he possibly could, "and don't cause too much trouble for them, eh? I don't want the police comin' round, oh, and don't stay too late because I won't know whether to cook you dinner or –"

"Yeah, yeah, old man, I get it, everything will be fine." Arthur interrupted when Allistor began to ramble, waving a dismissive hand in his brother's direction. Though, of course, everything _wasn't _fine. He hadn't exactly arranged the whole 'play-date' withAlfred – well, not _yet_, anyway. He figured that he'd arrange that on their way to school, which conveniently was just about –

"Hey, Artie!" Alfred shouted, grinning from ear to ear. "Wanna walk together?"

"If it's alright with you," Arthur lightly smiled, jogging behind the American as he tried to match his impressive stride, "and don't call me Artie! Arthur will do just fine, thank you very much!" Arthur said with a slight frown, which quickly passed, because in all honesty he _loved _the nickname.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, _Arthur_! You're no fun in your old age, are you?" Alfred said, picking up the pace again and easily speeding off ahead of Arthur by miles, shrinking to nothing but a speck on the horizon. Arthur sighed with a warm smile to himself. He really _had_ found a good friend, hadn't he? Actually, he'd found a best friend, which was why he never expected the American to turn down a sleepover party! Sure, he might be laughed at a bit for doing something so '_girly_', but Alfred was generally a confident guy, so he wouldn't mind the idea, would he?

At that point Arthur was starting to mind his own idea, but he dismissed the thought and ran in Alfred's direction before he changed his mind, panting heavily as he tried to catch up to him. _Yes_, Arthur smiled, running his plan through in his mind, _I'll just approach the lad, ask if he has any plans tonight and _–

"Oh! Hey, Artie," Alfred shouted behind him with a smirk, poking his tongue out at Arthur, "I'd sorta forgotten you were there, buddy! Why didn't you speak up?"

Arthur was about to speak up when he was interrupted. "Don't worry about it, Artie," Alfred said, slowing down to a walk which Arthur soon copied once he had got his breath back, "sorry for ditching you, you know it was only a joke, right?"

Arthur was quite surprised at his sudden genuine concern, but ignored it. He must have thought that Arthur was really sensitive, which he supposed was rational, considering h_e _was the one having an emotional breakdown the night before at someone else's expense. He shrugged off Alfred's question with a smile and a nod, which Alfred quickly returned. The two continued to walk down the pavement in silence, the occasional car passing by. It was a nice kind of silence, no awkwardness or discomfort in it. But, _as always_, the nature of the silence they shared was about to change for the worst.

"So," Arthur said, gulping as he was started to imagine what would be running through Alfred's head after he asked what he was about to, "do you have any plans tonight?"

Alfred's head shot round, a pair of seemingly blank eyes staring into a different pair of incredibly anxious ones. Arthur tried to subtly gulp and put on as much of a smile as he could muster, but then again, he was never good under pressure.

Alfred nervously laughed, keeping up a trembling grin, running a hand through his hair. "W-what, l-like a date?"

Arthur's smile quickly dropped. That was _exactly _what he feared Alfred would be thinking, but he didn't think he'd have the courage to voice it aloud. But, _as always_, he did.

Alfred's eyes started to burn into his, and Arthur panicked, a blush seeping onto his face. "N-no!" he shouted, perhaps a little too delayed. Alfred only nodded in response, continuing to stare. "I-I mean, I wanted to have a sleepover," Arthur continued, trying to fix the situation he had got the both of them into, but then suddenly jolting up in realisation of what he said, an even _redder _glow showing on his face. "_N-no_, I-I mean–"

Alfred chuckled as Arthur tried to cover his blush with his hands, looking close to tears. He was just so embarrassed! Why was everything so _difficult _around Alfred? "Don't worry, Artie, I just never considered you the type for sleepovers and all!" Alfred laughed and swung one of his arms over Arthur's shoulder, which made his face go impossibly redder.

But then, Alfred realised where they were.

And then, Alfred realised his mistake.

"Oh, hello, Alfred," a voice called, accompanied by the sound of shoes smacking on the concrete, which was becoming increasingly louder. Alfred quickly slung his arm off of Arthur's shoulder and visibly took a step away from him, if only slightly. He looked straight ahead of him, while Arthur just stared at him in confusion. But Arthur wasn't to get any answer. "Good to see you!" the voice said, a tall and bulky man revealing himself from the cover of the darkness. He was focused on Alfred at first, but he soon turned his head curiously in the direction of Arthur. "Who's this?"

Although the man, well, _teen_,appeared intimidating, he seemed friendly enough for Arthur. His voice was considerably deeper than Alfred or Arthur's, and he spoke with what Arthur assumed was an Eastern European accent, possibly Russian? Yes, he was certain it was Russian. He had light brown hair that flopped over his forehead, framing what appeared to be, remarkably,_ indigo _eyes! He wore his school uniform properly, much to Arthur's delight, but wrapped a large beige scarf around his neck, flicking the end over his shoulder as he continued to smile warmly at the pair in front of him. A scarf was certainly not uncommon considering it was winter, but what was really amazing was that the end of the scarf reached his knees! It was surprising how he didn't trip over, really. Arthur decided he'd have to ask about it later.

Arthur was sure he could become friends with this figure. He had seen him around school before, in fact, and he was sure he was in his year! He even had an idea about his name. It definitely started with an 'I', he was sure of it. Ah, yes! That was it! His name was–

"That's Arthur," Alfred said, his eyes voicing his concern as he stared at Arthur briefly, before turning his attention back to the Russian before him and clearing his throat swiftly, "he's–"

"Let the boy talk for himself, _Jones_." the Russian snapped, a dark frown creasing his features for only a flash, when he quickly realised his mistake and masked his aggression with a slight tilt of his head and a smile. The smile didn't seem so warm anymore. "Please, do tell me about yourself, without letting _this _get in the way, hm?" he said, subtly flinging his hand in Alfred's direction. Maybe Arthur _wouldn't _become such good friends with this guy. But he wouldn't be rude in return. He owed the stranger at least that much decency, although he was trying hard in holding back a number of insults, which he did successfully.

"Y-yes, as he said, I'm Arthur." Arthur said with a brief smile, craning his neck to even meet the eyes of the boy towering over him, who continued to intensely stare at him with his eyebrows slightly raised, a smile still spread across his face. So he wanted to know more, huh?

"I-I'm Arthur Kirkland." Arthur muttered, and then stared at the ground, crumbling under the pressure that the boy radiated off onto him. He wouldn't dare look up, even if it was tempting. What more could he even _want_ him to say?

"Ah, hello then, Arthur." the voice boomed and rattled around in Arthur's eardrums. He instinctively flinched, but quickly corrected himself by looking up to the owner of the voice before him, not wanting to offend the gentleman. He suddenly wished he _hadn't_. "My name is _Ivan_."

An intense indigo gleamed crazily through the shadows that engulfed his porcelain-white face, a choppy fringe cutting the colour into sections. _He must be insane_, Arthur thought, expecting the bulky hands of the monster in front of him to start strangling him by the neck any minute. But no such thing happened.

The figure, as if he sensed Arthur's discomfort, turned his head in the direction of Alfred who seemed to show him a similar look in return. Alfred didn't voice his growing concern though, and he just _prayed _that he didn't look that way. His prayers went unanswered.

When Ivan's intense gaze met Alfred's he flinched. He fell an inch, not even that, a half, a _quarter _of an inch backwards. He didn't stumble, or make a noise or even _show _any acknowledgement of what he had done but he knew about it from the second that sickly smile spread across Ivan's face. It was a quarter of an inch Ivan had won by, and that was all the two saw it as; that much was evident.

After a long, agonizing silence, Ivan looked to Arthur with a very smug smirk still spread across his face. "Well, Arthur, it's nice to meet you. I'm sure you and Jones will get on _just fine_." He said. And with that he walked away, a sadistic smile drawn on his face with permanent marker, but who could blame him?

Ivan had won, and Alfred had lost. Ivan also had a secret, and that secret was _knowledge_. It's perhaps the most powerless weapon of all when lying dormant, but it's a weapon nonetheless. It's a bomb waiting to explode, a fuse waiting to be lit, and when in capable hands it's life threatening. And Ivan's hands were perfectly capable, and Alfred's knees were _perfectly _weak.

Alfred was about to lose once again in the hands of Ivan, but Ivan wasn't the cause of the fire, not entirely on his own, anyway. Ivan knew that a fire takes three elements to start, they'd learnt it enough times in science class; there was Alfred, and there was Ivan, like the heat and the oxygen. But heat and oxygen can't start a fire on their own, can they now? Where was the much needed _third _element? The two elements had tried to start a fire on many occasions, but it just wasn't enough! There was no spark. They needed something else, _someone _else. And then Arthur came along. Ah, Arthur. Ivan thought he seemed like a nice kid, and apparently, so did _Alfred_.

And then there was the fuel; the much needed fuel that would start the fire. He had supposed that anyone could have been the fuel, but Arthur would do just nicely. Ivan didn't particularly want to hurt the kid himself, but in the end the end justifies the means, does it not? Besides, Alfred was really more to blame than him. Alfred was the one to choose the fuel and visa versa, and in all honesty, the fuel and the heat created the fire just fine by themselves; Ivan wasn't even _needed _in the process as far as he saw it – all science aside – and he most certainly wasn't responsible!

But Ivan was incredibly wrong. _No_ fire can come from just fuel and heat. The final element – the oxygen – is needed, and without it, there is no fire, and there is no problem. But Ivan chose to ignore such a vital part of his knowledge, as he believed it to be incorrect in such a situation. Guiltlessly and shamelessly Ivan _wanted _the flames to engulf the pair as he laughed from the sidelines. Why would Ivan care? Oxygen continues to exist long after the fuel burns up and the heat dies down. Oxygen always exists, and one tiny fire wasn't going to rain on his parade! It would take a lot more than _that _pathetic duo to destroy him!

Ivan would destroy Alfred, and subsequently Arthur, and it was all too easy. He had his _knowledge_, after all, and knowledge is the most valuable gift of all. Knowledge is the most _powerful _gift of all. And with the right cards he could win once and for all.

"Do you hear that, Alfred?" Ivan muttered under his breath as he walked through the school gates, a devilish smirk spreading across his face like an infectious disease. "I've _won_, Alfred, and you've _lost_. You and your little _boyfriend _have lost."

Then, Ivan was caught off guard. A clap of thunder rumbled through the air, stopping him in his very tracks as he turned his attention to the silver sky, the outline of clouds being lit up brilliantly with a yellow light for a split-second, and then nothing, once more. A cold sensation suddenly hit Ivan on the cheek, where it continued to roll down to his chin, and then another, and then another. Simultaneously the sound of mock-screams and complaining could be heard from all directions of the school grounds, and then the sound of shoes slapping on the pavement as people rushed past Ivan in a blur, heading for cover from the rain. But Ivan didn't move a muscle, except his mouth, which curved into a genuinely happy, almost _cute_, childlike smile.

"I hope you can stand a little rain, Alfred," he said with a sudden twisted, sinister smirk, looking beyond the school gates where only Arthur was left standing _completely alone_. Ivan knew what he had to do.

He headed toward the school gates again, his eyes locked onto the barely visible blonde hair of the isolated boy behind the fencing and the seclusion of the trees. It was hidden enough, but there was still the concern of all the other students.

The bell rang, and Ivan found himself grinning, and suddenly fighting against a wave of students who came rushing past him as they pushed forward, and he pushed back. But Ivan didn't mind. He had _all _the time he wanted; Arthur had all the time to escape that Ivan had to reach him as he effortlessly barged everyone else out of the way. If Arthur was to leave, he wouldn't approach him, and he'd head back to lessons to start the school day. If not, well, he had been warned as far as Ivan was concerned.

Arthur didn't move from his spot. Ivan stood right behind him.

"Time's _up_."

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**As you can see Ivan has entered the story (and don't sweat it, he's not gonna do anything **_**too**_** dark next update, he's not that crazy)! I hope I wrote him in-character, and in fact I hope I wrote **_**everybody **_**in character (well, I'll excuse Matthew from two chapters ago as he had a lot of sass and surprising aggression (he went a lil' 2P for some reason), but I'll try and improve on that in the next few chapters (he'll be popping up again))!**

**So, as I said earlier, thank you guys for all your reviews! Although I haven't replied (look how lazy and selfish I am), I have read them all and they all make me so happy! Thanks to Canadian Hero and Laethra for being my very first reviewers! Your comments encouraged me to keep on writing, even if you aren't still reading today (I have no idea if you are or not, but either way, thanks)! Thanks for all the complements on my chapters (to all of you lovely people!) and it's nice to know you guys want to read on (and enjoy the fluff, and can either enjoy or simply put up with the drama)! Thanks to my frequent reviewers who review every few (and sometimes every) chapter(s); it's nice to know you guys are still here and still like my story!**

**All in all thanks for the reviews, favs and follows – it's great to know you guys want to hear more from this story and from me **_**(hopefully)**_** and that you still will into the future! **


	7. I'll tell you something - Chapter 7

**Just to let you know, I fixed the overuse of italics in Chapter 6, and I hope I have kept to the edited standard in this chapter. Sorry if any characters seem a bit out of character, it's just that I am trying to adjust them to what I expect someone in such a situation would be going through, especially considering the character's personalities. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

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"What?"

"I said 'Time's _up_'!"

Suddenly Ivan was gripped by his scarf and rammed against the trunk of the tree Arthur stood beside moments before, shouting and quickly jumping out of the firing line.

Alfred wrestled Ivan, throwing him from side to side and back and forth, hitting Ivan's head with a dull thump against the wood of the tree. He winced, crying out a small whimper of pain, and then surged all his anger into a clear strike on Alfred's jaw. There was a sudden cracking noise, causing Arthur and Ivan to recoil in horror, Arthur quickly running to Alfred's side as he stumbled backwards, soaking himself as he fell back into a deep puddle, the rain continuing to fall heavily from the clouds above. Ivan just watched from the sideline in horror, the realisation dawning on him of what he had just committed.

Ivan quickly turned on his heels, running toward the school gates, shooting one last look at the scene he was leaving behind; Alfred lied on the floor, sitting on the fronts of his lower legs cradling his possibly-broken jaw, whilst Arthur bent down in front of him, shouting something to him that Alfred didn't seem to take any notice of, attempting to grab the fabric of his uniform and pulling him up. Ivan didn't want to leave but he knew he had to; he couldn't get in trouble again! He decided he would just confront Alfred throughout the day or after school, or maybe Arthur and get him to explain it to him, or, _or_–

"_Ivan!_" a trembling yet hostile voice shouted from behind him, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. Alfred had only been close to tears once in front of Ivan; it was obvious who the voice belonged to.

Ivan turned around, hesitance causing his legs to turn to jelly, but only momentarily. He was stronger than that. He was _better _than that. He edged toward the violent scene he left behind.

As soon as he rounded the corner he gasped, taking a step back, not wanting to see what lied, possibly unconsciously, in front of him, being shaken by the weak arms of a trembling boy. He didn't think he had punched Alfred _that _hard! He would have to escape again, but as much as he tried to head for the hills, he couldn't. It was impossible. The two looked so helpless, and he was the reason for it. As cold as he was, he didn't have _that _little heart! No, he would have to help, or at least not run away from the mess again. He owed the two, Alfred especially, that much.

Ivan started taking gentle steps toward Arthur, and Arthur visibly flinched, pulling himself and Alfred further away from the approaching figure. Ivan was going to kill him there and then for sure, finish Alfred off and beat Arthur to a bloody pulp, Arthur was sure of it. He didn't want to die _there_, cowering on the concrete outside the school gates, but if it was a way to go, at least he held someone he cared about in his arms, and at least he died trying. Trying to do what he wasn't sure, but he was _trying_.

"I'm not going to hurt you, just let me–"

"'_Not going to hurt' us? _You just broke his jaw!" Arthur shouted whilst pointing an accusative finger in Ivan's direction with newly found courage, Alfred groaning at the sudden movement that jolted him and his jaw bone.

Ivan ignored Arthur's warnings and took another step closer. Arthur snapped. "Get _away!_" he shouted, leaving Alfred to slump on his legs on his own, whilst he pounced up and swung a tightly clenched fist in Ivan's direction, which Ivan easily caught in the palm of his hand. Arthur looked up in horror; that was it. He had made the worse possible move. He was _surely _going to die _now!_

Ivan only stared down at Arthur with a look mixed with distress and fear. But it wasn't fear of Arthur, nor of Alfred. Ivan let his palm drop, leaving Arthur's loosening clenched fist to flop to his side effortlessly. But Ivan was tactical. He knew a way around a predicament like this.

"Just let me–"

Ivan hadn't anticipated what move was played next.

Something dense suddenly rocketed into his stomach, causing him to double over in pain and swear under the breath that escaped his lungs in seconds, looking up to Arthur with a surprised and sudden vengeful glint in his eyes. _If this is a game Arthur thinks he can beat me at, he is severely wrong, _Ivan laughed to himself inwardly as he wheezed, grabbing onto any part of Arthur he could reach, which happened to be the fabric of his jumper. He pulled on it with sudden force, the smaller boy's breath catching in his throat as he dragged him so close their noses were almost touching.

"Alfred has a _secret..._" Ivan whispered with a subtle smile to himself, which suddenly twisted into a sadistic grin as he heard Arthur's breath catch again.

As Arthur tried to struggle away Ivan only pulled him closer toward him, locking eyes with the boy who was only centimetres apart. Ivan could see the slight shine beneath Arthur's fringe which stuck to his forehead as he sweated, and he just _knew _it wasn't the rain. It made himself all the more confident that what he was about to do was right in his blind fit of rage. "His parents hate him. They _abandoned _him. Isn't that funny? There must be something wrong with him, wouldn't you agree?"

Arthur froze. Alfred's parents were dead, weren't they?Why would he lie about something as serious as that? Unless, of course, he hated them enough to want them dead! Arthur then froze as his thoughts started to dawn on him, what he believed to be the true answer to the conundrum becoming all the more apparent. Was _that _why Alfred said his parents were dead, because he hated them and they hated him in return?

Arthur looked over his shoulder to the resistant boy left sitting in the water. He was still sat almost motionless, lightly poking his jaw and wincing in pain every time he did so. Alfred then looked up and returned Arthur's gaze with a darkening frown, his distraction with his jaw completely wiped clean in that moment, and he pushed himself off the ground and shoved Arthur lightly aside with a palm to his chest. Alfred found himself standing above Ivan, who was just beginning to unwind and recover from his injury to the stomach.

As soon as Ivan started to unbend, Alfred pulled him up forcibly by the shoulders, causing him to wince slightly from the pain. If Alfred couldn't be taller or stronger than him then he sure would act like he was. It was all part of their competition. _Everything _was.

"What do you think you are doing, _Jones?_" Ivan snapped, his anger with the irritable blonde growing every countable second. When Alfred didn't reply his eyes narrowed further, until he saw a bead of sweat trickling down the side of Alfred's face, rolling from under his fringe. He then started to quietly chuckle to no one but himself, Alfred continuing to pretend it was only rain, but he knew better truly.

Ivan patted the other lightly on the shoulder with a smirk, which Alfred only response to was an icy stare at what clamped down on him. At this Ivan gripped him by the chin and jerked his head to face him again, making Alfred's features crease in pain until he released. Ivan smiled widely at him in response. He then moved his mouth to Alfred's ear, the heat from Ivan's breath tickling him uncomfortably as he whispered something that made Alfred's heart almost stop beating entirely.

"I know your _secret_," Ivan said quietly, snickering to himself when he felt Alfred shudder from a chilling shiver running down his spine, "and I know who you like."

When Alfred held back the rising panic inside of him and tried to not offer too much of a reaction in return, Ivan chuckled to himself lightly, pulling himself away from the trembling boy in front of him. Then he said something that made Alfred vomit all over himself, and the ground beneath him, and all the work he had put into keeping up a mask that shattered in a matter of seconds.

"I know _what _you like."

Ivan took a step backwards as Alfred bent over, clutching his stomach as he retched. Arthur recoiled for a brief moment and then came to his senses, slapping a hand on Alfred's back in an attempt to help him bring everything up, whilst Ivan only smiled to himself more.

Ivan then turned away, a slight yet sudden bounce in his step, humming to himself a sickly sweet tune as he skipped into school, splashing his shoes in every puddle in his path.

"Come on, Alfred, bring it all up," Arthur said with a reassuring smile, though it wasn't fooling anyone.

It was clear to Arthur that whatever Ivan said, it had something to do with Alfred's supposed secret, which he was beginning to doubt the existence of second after second. Why did he even _consider _trusting that brute over Alfred? It was ridiculous! Why would Alfred be lying, anyway? What real reason did he possess?

But at the back of his mind, some part of his paranoid brain was nagging at him, telling him that Ivan was being entirely truthful. But Arthur tried to ignore his instincts. He didn't want to distrust Alfred, and so if he simply _didn't_, then there would be no problem. Apparently, however, Arthur's paranoia had a lot more power over him than he wanted it to.

When Alfred eventually stopped retching, Arthur pulled him aside, standing him upright as he asked him if he could examine his jaw. Alfred agreed and Arthur began to lightly poke around the outline of the swollen bone, which was starting to turn purple in colour.

"It's bruised pretty badly, Alfred." Arthur said, keeping his hand a little _too _close for comfort on Alfred's jaw, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing his cheeks. He turned his face away from the smaller of the two, huffing and pouting.

"Alfred, if you don't want my help I can just go." Arthur muttered, slightly hurt, retracting his hand and turning away from Alfred. Why was he so _oblivious_? Alfred just couldn't understand it! He was having a hard time comprehending his own actions and emotions, let alone Arthur getting in the way, as well! But if there was one thought in his mind he could trust, it was that Arthur needed to stay.

Alfred quickly shook his head, wincing at the pain of the movement he had just treated his jaw to. He brought his hand up to rub at his sore spot. Arthur huffed lightly and faced Alfred, looking straight into his eyes. He then sighed in defeat and grabbed Alfred's wrist, pulling him along the pavement as he continued to huff and sigh and whine and whinge, but in reality, he couldn't help but smile at the dopey sod that was being dragged along behind him. He could be so stupid, but so, _so _lovable.

"Do you think it's broken?" Alfred said, prodding at his bulging jaw.

Despite the fact they had left the school at least an hour before neither seemed to consider visiting a hospital, or a doctor in the least. They had barely even let the school's nurse check out his wound; Alfred didn't want to answer any of their questions and Arthur was hardly going to force him to, and so the nurse gave up. Alfred knew Ivan better than Arthur did, and he therefore knew getting Ivan in trouble would be bad news. The two of them would be packed a serious punch if they ever did that, that much was clear from his own broken jaw! He couldn't let that happen to Arthur; he hadn't even done anything wrong!

And so they found themselves sitting in Arthur's kitchen when school was practically only just starting. They really had found themselves in a troublesome situation.

"Maybe," Arthur replied, bringing over a frozen pack of peas he had found lurking in his freezer and holding them to Alfred's jaw, "I still think you should have said something to that nurse, though."

Arthur was just as scared as Alfred of Ivan and what he would do to them, but Alfred's wellbeing was more important than any threats Ivan would send his way. But Arthur was positive that Ivan wouldn't really hurt either of them again. Did he even want to do it the first time? Though, of course, not wanting to do something doesn't mean not doing it. When people are cornered they result to desperate measures, and besides, Alfred started the fight, although Arthur didn't disagree with his decision. He still was unsure of what Ivan was doing lurking in the shadows behind him, and he knew that he certainly didn't want to find out. Alfred really _was_ his hero, after all.

Alfred grimaced slightly at the sudden icy sting pushed against his warm skin, but he calmed to it, the coldness numbing him so it only ached slightly, but it was only background noise to him, anyway. He had more pressing issues to attend to; there was a blonde-haired, green-eyed boy crouched in front of him, holding Alfred's jaw and cheek with his hand. He was smiling completely innocently, as if he had _no idea _what he was doing, which was frankly out of character, if not totally _bizarre_.

Usually Arthur would be the one to be embarrassed, and Alfred would occasionally share his mutual blushes, but after that morning he was the only one cringing. Alfred didn't understand where Arthur's head was, or how long ago the air got a little _too _thin around it. How could Arthur _not_ be ashamed; he was completely unfazed! Didn't he see the way Ivan mocked the two of them back there? Though a new thought hit Alfred; maybe he just didn't care about what Ivan, or anyone else for that matter, thought?

He could only think one thing in that moment. _If only I was that way._

Alfred felt like the situation was starting to slip his fingers and he didn't like it one bit.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he noticed Arthur staring at him, but in a sweet way, still holding the peas to his face. "Y-yeah," Alfred eventually replied, propping the bag up with his own hands and keeping it close to his wound, "I guess I should have. But you're here, so it doesn't matter."

Alfred had no idea why he had just said that. He also couldn't help himself from over thinking it.

What was he doing? Why was he saying that to _Arthur_, the regular _boy _who lived next door who Alfred wouldn't, and _shouldn't_, have any feelings for? Ivan and seemingly everyone else reminded him of that enough, so why didn't he just _pretend_ to believe it, or, did he already do that?

Alfred and Arthur should have only been friends, which they were. He had grown up with that message for quite a lot of his life. He may never have been explicitly told anything more was wrong, but the displays of horrified disgust that came with it filled that place perfectly.

They were the best of friends, to be precise, so that must be why Alfred said those things, _felt _those things. That's how friends feel for each other, isn't it?Alfred felt stupid for even thinking like that; he had plenty of friends, so he should be the expert on it! But, that was the problem. He didn't feel the same about all his other friends. It was probably because they made fun of him a lot. They joked about him behind his back, and horribly enough, to his face.

They didn't really seem to care about him at all. Alfred often wondered whether it was just friendly banter, or if they really meant all of what they said with that much venom and hatred. But if he ever asked them, he would just be assaulted by another wave of abuse, and that wasn't something he wanted to face. They'd think he was weak. They'd think that what they were constantly assaulting Alfred with was _true_.

But Arthur did care about him, didn't he? He sure acted like it, inviting him into his home and plopping him on a chair in the kitchen like he was a kid who had grazed their knee and needed a plaster.

Huh, how strange.

Did Arthur really care for him _that _much more than everyone else?

Did Arthur _actually _like him, then? Like no one else ever seemed to?

He knew that that was untrue; Alfred's family loved him, or, well, they used to, but his brother still cared for him! He was the reason he was even in England living in his home. He was the reason he was neighbouring the house he was sitting in that moment. He was the reason he had met _Arthur_.

Alfred drifted out of his thoughts, his eyes no longer absent. They were trained on Arthur, focusing only on him as he shuffled in his position. He was perched with a genuine smile on the edge of a lone stool, his hands curled around either side of the wood. Then, he moved, pushing himself off from the seat, making his way surely but slowly to Alfred.

Alfred didn't know what possessed him to do it, except he did it. He couldn't lie to his friend any longer. He had decided to tell the truth, and deal with the consequences later.

Alfred could trust Arthur, couldn't he?

"Arthur, I have something to tell you." Alfred said, forcing himself to keep eye contact with the other who stood across from him, stopping in their tracks steadily. The nerves in Alfred were rising and his heart began to pound in his chest, but he knew he couldn't stop himself. He stared into the eyes of the boy in front of him who, without Alfred's knowledge, had become increasingly nervous. But Arthur could relax at the slight comfort that he knew that conversation was to arrive at some point. He knew what Alfred wanted to tell him. Ivan _was _telling the truth.

"_His parents hate him. They _abandoned _him_." The words rang in Arthur's ears and he suddenly felt a burning sensation in his throat and the urge to bring up bile. But he held it down tightly in his stomach.

Arthur had a nagging feeling about Alfred's secret from the moment the heaving Russian whispered it to him earlier. He didn't want to believe it, but he knew it must be true. Ivan was tactical; there would be no point in spreading fake rumours, or if he was trying to do it to break him and Alfred apart, it wouldn't work. Alfred had only built up his walls to conceal his secret; it was instinctual, and defensive, yes, but rightfully so. Who _wouldn't _want to hide a demon like that?

But what Arthur didn't know was that Alfred hadn't built barriers to shield his secret, but to hide his weapon. He was saving it, gently pressing his fingers to the cold blade in his pocket, preparing to whip it out and _slice _at any moment. But it wasn't Arthur who he was slitting the neck of. He wasn't the first victim on his list.

"When Ivan whispered to us," Alfred said, gulping rather loudly and tugging at the collar of his shirt around his neck, which seemed to be constricting every emerging second, "he said something I want to come clean about, so, here goes."

Alfred sighed shakily, a cold sweat coming over him. There was no going back, and he knew it. _Just don't reject me, Arthur, or I think I might out myself_, Alfred thought icily, finally bringing himself to lock eyes with the boy across from him. _Here goes._

"I'm _gay_."

Neither had anticipated that Ivan whispered two different things in each other's ears. It was a deadly mistake.

Arthur couldn't stop his breath from catching in his throat. He did it as quietly as he could force himself to; almost so muted you wouldn't be able to hear it. _Almost_.

At that reaction Alfred couldn't help his ankles from giving out, stumbling over empty air to an ignorant eye. But Alfred hadn't tripped over air, but over everything that had happened that day which sent him plummeting to the pits of his deepest nightmare once again. It was _always _once again. Alfred knew he was just about to relive the nightmare back in America with his parents and his old life. His regretful words and that merciless reaction had once again started burning up any chances of happiness and hope in his world, and in almost an instant of the terrifying silence that engulfed them, his words and their recipient's answer had turned to nothing but _ash_, senseless, hopeless _ash_.

He leant toward a nearby kitchen counter, breaking his sudden stumble with a painful thudding pain that spread over his ribs. But he couldn't feel it, and he couldn't care less.

Alfred turned to look at Arthur. Alfred stared at him with desperate, expectant eyes, and the silence in the air was suffocating him. He couldn't wait any longer. He muttered something, perhaps begging for an answer, _anything_, because dead silence as a reply to who he was was almost as terrifying as the response he dreaded most.

Arthur didn't voice his reply, but smiled softly at the fragile boy in front of him. But it was enough. It was _more _than enough.

He moved toward Alfred. He slid a pair of weak arms under bulkier and heavier ones that lied limply over his, lifting up the taller and heavier boy with a newly found strength. He pulled him into a tight hug, effectively keeping his feet on solid ground as their owner struggled to find any feeling in them.

It was then that Alfred realised that Arthur didn't care about what he had just revealed, and he couldn't have been happier. _Acceptance_, he thought, finding strength in his left ankle, and then his right. _This is all I ever needed. This is all I ever wanted._

What Alfred thought was true. He wanted it, and he needed it. But he wasn't going to get it. Life was never quite that simple for Alfred Jones, _or _Arthur Kirkland.


	8. Something you'd like to know - Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

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"Thank you for telling me about them, Alfred, I know it must be hard for you," Arthur said with a comforting yet weary smile, pouring boiling water from the kettle in his hands into a mug, and then another one, "I was worried sick for you and, well, now I suppose I still am, but at least I know who I should be worrying about."

Alfred briefly heard the sounds of metal clinking against china and, when Arthur joined him in the living room, the beating of his heart in his chest and ears.

He was still recovering from the nerves he felt since finally telling the truth to Arthur, but it felt like he wasn't dragging along the heavy weight of it anymore. The burning could no longer be felt as he released the rough ropes that were wrapped around the weight behind him. The heavy burden he once dragged along was gone; he was free from it.

So with that he opened up to Arthur and felt at bliss, but the light in his eyes was soon replaced with absentness; he had once again started thinking over his situation and why he was so nervous about talking about something that shouldn't be a problem, but was.

Alfred only nodded in response. Although he was recovering from the weight his parents had left him dragging over his shoulder, their legacy was still fresh in his mind, as were his wounds. He told himself time would heal them and the skin would close over, but even he acknowledged that when they did the scars would still run over him.

It was hard for him to block out the words from strangers, but he could always grow to hate them. But it was a lot worse with his parents. He had put his trust in them and they had just thrown it back in his face as if they didn't even care, _because _they didn't even care. Those wounds would never heal over completely. They would, however, be scabbed, but a scab can be picked away with so little care and effort and the wounds would be suddenly fresh again, wide open.

But there was no other way. He would have to wait, and hope that the scab would just stay put. But parts of him were weak, despite his strong physique. Perhaps, just perhaps, he would find his bandages. They wouldn't heal the wound, far from, but they would stop the bleeding. Maybe that's all he needed to survive in his life.

Arthur set down one of the mugs on the coffee table in front of Alfred as he took a seat next to him, adjusting his grip on the handle between his fingers as he relaxed on the sofa. Arthur took a sip quietly, occasionally glancing over the cup at the other beside him, who only stared almost absently into the beige brew settling between walls of white china. It was hard to tell what Alfred was thinking, although Arthur knew what _he himself_ would be thinking at that point.

Alfred had been telling Arthur of his past, and how his parents constantly tried to tell him all sort of nonsense of therapy and treatment for his "illness", as they called it. Maybe it was just a way for them to further deny it. It seemed unlikely that they actually believed it was just like an ordinary illness that you would take some medication for, get some rest, and eventually you would be cured. How could it be? No, it was purely the result of serious denial, and buried within that denial and bewilderment was _hatred_, and _disgust_.

Arthur was finding it hard to choose which words to pick, and which to reject. "How did you move to England, then?" Arthur said, settling on what he assumed was a safe bet, placing his mug down on a coaster on the coffee table and turning his head to face Alfred. Alfred was slightly hesitant to return the gesture, but came to his senses and did. Talking would only help come to terms with the problem, Alfred told himself as he cleared his throat. He could trust Arthur. No, he _did _trust Arthur.

"I suppose my family took me out of there." he said, reaching for the mug in front of him and taking a sip to act as a distraction. His lips broke from the china and he noticed Arthur staring intently at him, waiting for him to continue. He inwardly sighed and his shoulders visibly drooped. "Or, my parents just didn't want me around anymore. I guess they thought time away from there would... _help_."

Arthur nodded, dropping his gaze to his own lap. "I'm sorry I keep asking you about it, Alfred," he said, moving his thumbs in pointless circles around each other to distract himself, "I know it's been very hard on you, and I, well, I guess I just want to help you feel better about it all, but I've probably gone the wrong way about it."

Alfred shook off Arthur's comment with a dismissive hand, but on the inside, he was a wreck. He didn't attempt any words with his gesture. His voice would only end up cracking or falling silent, and in that case his words were only daggers that would impale him, their wielder. Things that were supposed to aid and care for him seemed to turn on him eventually, it seemed.

Arthur nodded in a way that he didn't seem to really acknowledge the other's response. He took another sip of tea and glanced over the edge of the cup again to see Alfred gazing blankly, or deeply struck in thought, at the drink that once again sat at the table, almost completely full.

Arthur breathed lightly into the warm steam that rose from below him, heating his cheeks. He then set the cup down and stretched his arm out toward Alfred, the tips of his fingers brushing on the fabric of his blazer's shoulder. At the sudden contact, snapping out of his thoughts in an instant, Alfred jolted and swung his head around to meet the gaze of Arthur, his eyes slightly widened but visibly relaxing at the sight of a familiar face. A strained smile spread across his lips, and he looked almost tired.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Alfred asked, still smiling to either himself or Arthur, but whichever option it was, he wasn't fooling _anyone_.

Arthur hesitated in his words, but eventually found the only ones he could bring himself to voice. "No, don't worry, Alfred. It was nothing, nothing at all." He was inwardly kicking himself for not saying what he wanted, but he let the feeling subside as Alfred seemed to smile in return. But it was weary.

"Thank you for listening to me, Arthur. Usually my friends just ignore me, but you're, well, different, I guess." Alfred nodded, as if only just realising this information himself, before patting Arthur lightly on the head, like he never had the courage to do in the café. _Huh_, Alfred thought, letting his lips curve into a genuine grin that had been locked away somewhere inside of him, _the café._

To Alfred, the café seemed like a dream lost in time, yet oddly present. He had been happier then; he was still internally grieving, but he had a lot more control over himself. But the moments he found himself reminiscing back to seemed light-years away. Despite everything that had happened since then, he was happy. He was at peace. He had found comfort and reassurance in someone who had suddenly grown a lot closer to him in his life, and for that he was grateful. He wouldn't give it up for everything, not even for his life to have been normal up until then.

If his parents could have been loving and understanding, would he have given up his current life? Yes, he _would_ have. But since that morning, and perhaps a little longer before, he realised that he would be a different person, with a different life and different experiences and in a different place with different people. And that was there his heart skipped a beat. His people were too hard to replace. Arthur had really flipped his life around, and even if he could wish all that needed flipping away he wouldn't, because then he wouldn't have his _Arthur_, his true and dear friend that he had found in a matter of a moment, but a moment was enough.

When Arthur didn't reply, Alfred continued. "You really mean a lot to me, Arthur, and I just want you to know that, you're a great pal. I hope I can help you in some way."

Arthur's eyes widened and he leant back a few inches in alert, a light pink dusting over either cheek. He cleared his throat quietly into his hand and looked down, and then up again, locking eyes with Alfred who was staring at him almost expectantly.

"It's perfectly okay, Alfred, you've done enough for me, I don't want to be a bother. I guess, well, this is embarrassing, but I suppose you're the first good friend I've had, if it's okay for me to say. I've had others and they're wonderful, it's true, but I guess you're different, as well." Arthur said, immediately turning his attention to his left, or his right, or anywhere but the space in front of him, or more specifically, the _boy _in front him.

At Arthur's words, Alfred felt himself let go of the breath he never realised he was holding in. His lips curved into a smile, and he saw Arthur smile and sigh in relief as well. A quiet silence fell over the two perfectly comfortably.

"Is your jaw okay?" Arthur asked suddenly.

Alfred laughed and bobbed his head up and down gleefully. "I'm fine! Seriously though, you should head back to school. You'll get in so much trouble, Artie!"

Arthur laughed lightly in return and shook his head. "No, don't worry about me. The day's already half over and it's starting to snow," Arthur said, turning his head toward a window to see flurries of white passing by the glass, "so don't worry, school will close early anyway, it always does and you know it." Arthur added with a chuckle.

Alfred nodded with a pinch of reluctance, but he soon relaxed. A few seconds earlier Alfred's phone started beeping and he reached over for it. It turned out that Matthew had texted him saying that school had indeed ended, and that he needed to be picked up.

Of course Alfred couldn't drive, nor did he own a car, so he would either have to walk or take the bus. Alfred turned toward the window and, judging by the amount of snow filling the air, he would have to take the bus.

But then another thought hit Alfred.

"I guess Matthew found out about this morning." Alfred said with a solemn smile, and then saw Arthur's confused expression and sighed slightly. "You were right. School's ended and he needs picking up, and I guess since our aunt and uncle are at work he turned to me, and there's only one way he knows I'm not at school, huh?"

"Oh," Arthur said, stroking his chin in thought, "but how are you going to pick him up? You can't drive."

"I'm gonna take the bus. If you wanna come you can, I'd actually like you to." Alfred said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck slowly.

"Oh," Arthur said again, his cheeks turning slightly rosy, "I suppose so, yes, if it's not too much of a bother."

"Nah dude, of course it's not! I invited you, didn't I?" Alfred said with a chuckle, his mood perking up. "So, you ready to go?"

"Yes," Arthur said with a small smile, "let's go."

The two pushed themselves up from Arthur's sofa and made their way out of his house and down the icy path to where the bus stop sat. Alfred sat down in the shelter first, picking one of the middle seats of the four, whilst Arthur chose an end one in the corner, sitting himself down next to Alfred. From where they sat they could see the bus schedule stuck onto a sign post by the roadside.

"We still have five minutes," Alfred said, moving his wrist toward his face and then retracting it, "do you have anything you need to–"

"_Oh!_" Arthur exclaimed, swiftly bringing his phone out of his pocket and tapping something so quickly on the screen his thumbs were a blur.

When Alfred looked at him with an eyebrow raised, Arthur turned to him and blushed slightly with a sheepish grin, before quickly turning back to his phone again. "Sorry, I forgot to tell Allistor I won't be home when he gets back, as all."

Allistor worked long and hard in order to keep his family afloat, and although he did try very hard to keep them above the water, his work often went unappreciated, mostly by Arthur. But Arthur did have respect for him, enough so that he at least told him that he wouldn't be waiting for him at home with a much deserved cup of tea on the boil.

"Working long hours, huh?" Alfred muttered to himself, turning his attention from Arthur to the occasional car that passed by in front of them.

Eventually, the odd car was replaced with a large, red bus and Alfred tugged on Arthur's sleeve. Arthur turned around with slight bewilderment and then a quick nod and a smile. He slipped his phone in his pocket and the two stood up, Arthur quickly grabbing onto the sleeve of Alfred's blazer as he slipped unexpectedly on the invisible ice below him. He looked sheepish but Alfred only laughed him off and the two made their way over to the roadside.

"Ticket, please." a voice called from the driver's seat of the vehicle, their face turning expectantly toward the duo. Arthur nodded and took a collection of loose coins from his pocket and handed them forward, the metal quickly being taken from his palm and replaced with a ticket. He quickly nodded and mumbled his thanks and started walking down the aisle, Alfred trudging behind reluctantly.

Alfred was about to protest when Arthur shook him off and uttered the familiar words, "Think of it as a way for me to pay you back from earlier."

Eventually, Arthur found a spot that was appealing to him – a pair of red, plush seats one row from the back – and he stepped aside, gesturing for Alfred to take the seat against the window. He did and Arthur sat next to him, shuffling and adjusting himself to the soft yet stiff seat under him, all the while Alfred looked at him from the corner of his eye in amusement.

Alfred's eyes then met ones with a look of slight irritation and he quickly turned his attention toward what stood beyond the bus, through the window. The slick ice on the paving was beginning to become replaced with powdery snow, and whilst he ordinarily would be worrying slightly about Matthew or even his own safety, he had something – or someone – more important on his mind.

He glanced at the boy beside him from the corner of his eye again and couldn't help hold back a slight smile.

But then he remembered something.

Alfred and Arthur were going back to school.

_Ivan _was at school.

He felt his heart thump in his chest again and a rising wave of panic pang inside of him. He turned to Arthur shakily and tapped him with one finger on the shoulder. Arthur's head spun round, suddenly registering Alfred's sudden spell of shock, and he squeezed his hand, as if he already knew the fate they were about to meet and he was just as worried as Alfred, which was all too true. But he was only _worried_, not scared.

The two sat together, Alfred subconsciously edging slightly closer to the smaller figure beside him. It wasn't much, but his company was enough to subside his shaking if only a bit. He wasn't worried for himself; he was worried for Arthur. Ivan would be harsher on Alfred, he already knew it, but that didn't stop Alfred from worrying for the weaker boy beside him. He didn't want him to drag him into a conflict that he really didn't need to be a part of. And if Arthur wanted to be a part of it, Alfred would do everything in his power to stop him. However, his fears were all too true; Alfred was strong-bodied, but Arthur was strong-minded, and Arthur could easily overpower him with enough reasoning. And there was no way Alfred could physically fight Arthur over it, was there?

Alfred found himself pulled out of his thoughts when he was being dragged by the arm out of his seat and into the thick snow outside. Alfred took one last look back at the red that drifted off into the distance, but the air was too thick with snow and mist for his eyes to keep a clear track of it for too long. Alfred deeply sighed and the smaller of the two made his way through the thick snow, whilst the taller pathetically trudged in his tracks, the bile inside of him threatening to come back up again.

Arthur attempted to console Alfred, but it was little comfort. Arthur may have been able to overpower Alfred, but he was no match for Ivan. Ivan had a lot more strength than the two, mentally and physically, and it would be all too hard to convince him from stopping whatever he planned on doing. Ivan wasn't one for persuasion, and he wouldn't change his mind without a price. The cruel, calculated killer would want something in return, and Alfred had a few ideas of what.

"Alfie, over here!" a voice shouted, but it went unheard over the hustle and bustle, or lack of. "Alfie!" the voice repeated, which finally caught the attention of the two nearing the school gates, where the owner of the voice stood almost invisibly.

"Mattie!" Alfred shouted, all traces of worry on his face washed away with a gleeful smile as he jogged toward Matthew who did the same in return.

Arthur was left standing on his own, shaking his head to himself with a disbelieving smile; how Alfred lighted up upon seeing his brother was extraordinary in Arthur's eyes. But soon he was brought out of his thoughts when Alfred waved him over, and Arthur happily followed, carefully treading in Alfred's footprints in the snow to avoid falling over.

Matthew shot Alfred a puzzled look at the sight of Arthur but Alfred quickly shrugged him off with a giddy smile.

"I'm guessing you already know about earlier, huh?" Alfred said, Arthur eventually joining them from his trek up the pathway.

Matthew nodded in return and shot concerned looks at the both of them, but eventually settled on a faint smile when he realised there was no immediate damage. Not on the surface, at least.

"So, do you want to get going–"

"Oh, Alfred, it's such a surprise to see you here!" a heavily-accented voice beamed, sounding off with a sarcastic ring whether it was intentional or not. "May I talk to you, just for a quick moment?"

The trio turned to the source of the voice. None other than Ivan Braginski stood there, towering over everybody nearby even though he could have only been a few inches taller than most.

Alfred nodded feverishly, nervously making his way over to Ivan who continued walking away from the worried pair, who were left shrinking into the distance behind them. Alfred involuntarily gulped and tried to hide himself in his shirt collar, but it was impossible. The aura that Ivan emitted trailed behind him, and Alfred couldn't help but feel he was getting sucked into it.

Ivan eventually stopped in his tracks when he reached a tree, the very same one that he was pushed onto earlier that morning. It was also the same one where Alfred got punched in the jaw.

"So, Alfred," Ivan started, turning around to face the shorter boy front on, "I need to have a little talk with you about something, yes?"

Alfred gulped and nodded, making sure his eyes never met the intimidating glare he imagined Ivan wore.

"Good! In that case, let me start." Ivan said, filling the gap between the two abruptly. Alfred couldn't stop himself from looking up, his features stricken with fear from the sudden movement the other made, meeting a pair of purple eyes that stared down at him like a predator on prey. "I wanted to apologise for earlier and I am expecting the same from you."

Alfred couldn't hold the gaze any longer and broke, his eyes falling to the Russian's shoes. Although he was apologising he was just as demanding as if he was threatening you; his only policy was, once again, "my way or the highway", as always. Alfred nodded quickly, just willing for their conversation the end there and then. But of course, he wasn't to have his way when he was dealing with Ivan.

"And, from you?" Ivan repeated, the irritation in his voice hitting Alfred in the stomach.

Alfred nodded again and mumbled something under his breath, his strained sorry coming out as nothing more than a whisper. Ivan's smile suddenly dropped and his anger started to seep through.

"_Louder!_" Ivan shouted, grabbing the attention of a few passing by students who quickly snapped their heads away at the intense looks Ivan shot at them. Alfred snapped up, his uneasy eyes meeting the merciless gaze of the once-again positively beaming Russian.

"I-I'm v-very sorry, Ivan. It won't happen again, I promise! J-just don't hit me again, _please!_" he shouted. Nobody dared to look up again that time. It wasn't uncommon for Ivan to be a repeat offender, especially when he was dealing with his archenemy.

Ivan brought a hand to Alfred's shoulder and patted him lightly, which didn't help ease Alfred's nerves at all. If anything, they grew.

"That wasn't so hard now, was it? Now hurry along, I think your brother and your _boyfriend _are waiting for you, yes?" Ivan said with a smile, a bead of sweat finally trickling down the side of Alfred's face.

Alfred nodded shakily and turned away from him, thankful for their time together to have ended. He ignored the little nickname Ivan gave to Arthur as he shrunk away, releasing most of his nerves in a deep and well-needed sigh. He knew Ivan was just teasing. He was only building up to his long-awaited revenge.

After all, Ivan knew that revenge was a dish best served cold.

But the fact that Ivan was hooking Arthur into his revenge-plan so early made Alfred want to throw up. It would only get worse and his revenge would only grow bigger and more devious. He couldn't let it get to that stage. Hurting Alfred was one thing, but bringing in a totally innocent bystander was another.

But then again, Ivan knew that there was no such thing as an innocent bystander.

"Are you alright, Alfred?" Matthew whispered, Arthur clearly wanting to know the answer to the same question.

"Yes, I'm fine," Alfred mumbled, his cheery mood suddenly faded into absentness.

Alfred looked to his company either side of him and walked on, willing for them to follow. Matthew did silently and Arthur jogged up next to him, patting him on the shoulder.

Alfred didn't look up to meet the concerned gaze of either Matthew or Arthur, to which Arthur sighed and started rubbing soothing circles over his shoulder blades.

It was a nice sight to see, one of comfort and happiness. This was certainly true for Ivan, who stood mockingly up against the trunk of the tree he was pinned against hours earlier, smirking to himself at the situation before him.

He knew it was only to be a matter of time before he could finally serve his revenge, something that had been building up for years. Many would have thought this strange, considering that Alfred was a fairly new student, not even being at the school for an entire year. Though of course what many didn't know was that Ivan had known Alfred from before he moved to their current one.

Ivan had been at the same school as Alfred before he moved, but Ivan had moved a few years prior. There had always been a lot of tension – it had all started since _that _incident – and everything went downhill. The two had always held a grudge since, and they settled it out by trying to beat each other at everything. They _were _on equal ground, but then Arthur came into Alfred's life. Since then Ivan took ownership of the upper hand, and in his powerful hand he held the one thing that would take him to the stop.

The devilish smirk that was etched onto Ivan's face grew as more of the scene unravelled before him. Arthur had moved his hand from Alfred's back to his shoulder, and then down his arm, until his fingers reached Alfred's hand.

_Ah_, Ivan thought with a quiet chuckle to himself, _so here is the bait. _He waited until the drama unravelled further.

Arthur entwined his fingers within Alfred's and Alfred seemed to brighten up at the show of affection.

Ivan's smirk grew with the loudness of his chuckle. _And here is the catch_, Ivan thought, bringing his phone from out of his pocket. He tapped his thumb against the screen and brought it up to his face, positioning it in the air in just the perfect spot.

The click of a fake-shutter sounded as the camera on his mobile took a photo. Ivan brought the screen to his face, awing at the masterpiece he had just captured.

"And here is my prized fish," he chuckled to himself as he continued to look from the mobile in his palm to the real scene in front of him, "I wonder how much it's worth?"

Ivan already knew the answer to his question. He had certainly snagged an expensive catch, and it wasn't one he would let go of for the world.

But Ivan was a generous man. He saved the photo to his phone's memory and went onto the internet, opened up a website and uploaded it with just a few taps on the screen.

Where is the joy in something if you don't share it with _everyone? _

Ivan already knew the answer, which is exactly why he went on to add a little comment on his masterpiece once it had finished uploading.

'_I think we've learnt a little something about our comrade Alfred today_', he wrote, smiling as he noticed the presence of a first reply only seconds later. But when he read it over, he deeply frowned for the first time.

'_I can't believe this – how could my darling pain du chocolat do this to me?_'

Their _precious pain du chocolat_, indeed.

* * *

**And there **_**mystery person **_**goes, adding a new flavour in the big mixing bowl I call '**_**That December **__**Morning**_**'. Stay tuned! Updates are on the way!**


	9. What is this feeling? - Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

* * *

Francis. Francis Bonnefoy.

Francis had always been quite the pretender, but he apparently didn't see what damage his jokey little comment might have dealt. Though of course, he wasn't joking _completely _– he did have a crush on Arthur, one he always had felt was mutual no matter how much he was laughed at by the other. He figured Arthur was just too shy to admit it; maybe he was scared of being bullied? But Francis did that sort of thing all the time! Well, maybe people always thought he was kidding, but a lot of the time his flirtatious self never lied!

"What?" Ivan said to himself in confusion and amusement, looking around to find Francis leaning up against the school gates, slipping his phone in his pocket as he began to walk and then jog away, flipping several strands of his lanky blonde hair out of his eyes.

Ivan laughed to himself disbelievingly before looking back to his own phone, when many new comments starting to arrive.

Ivan didn't have many friends, or even acquaintances, but nobody could resist looking at something as juicy as two people, unintentionally, coming out as gay, as far as they saw it. What else could the gossip-hungry predators have left to talk about?

To Ivan it was even like a simple blessing. By achieving his goal of kicking down Alfred, he had gained a few friends, even if it was momentarily. Everybody won! Well, except for Alfred, and perhaps Arthur, and maybe a few more, but it wasn't _too _many more, was it?

As more and more comments flooded onto the image, Ivan couldn't help but feel a little tug of guilt at the bottom of his stomach. He had meant to harm Alfred, but things were starting to perhaps get a bit out of hand. Even if he told himself not to care about Arthur, Alfred, their brothers or anyone else even slightly associated, there was always _himself_. Pulling a stunt like this would lead to a fight, and although he didn't like to admit it, he sometimes questioned whether he was stronger than Alfred or not when the time would come for Ivan to show him what he was made of. The thought scared him just a little.

"_Wait!_"

The trio, Matthew, Alfred and Arthur, walking back to their homes turned around in unison, two looking utterly confused while the other scowled with a huff. "What do you want, Francis?"

"I have something important to tell you, Arthur," Francis said, heaving slightly at the effort it took to simultaneously run _and _avoid slipping over in the snow-ice, "_both _of you, privately."

The three's eyes looked from each other before they assumed that Alfred was the one Francis was referring to. The two who were wanted stepped forward, Alfred turning around with a confused look as he walked past Matthew. Arthur only sighed as Francis continued walking farther away, back toward the seclusion of the near-empty school.

Francis eventually stopped once they had entered the grounds of the school where they secluded themselves from everyone, except the odd straggler of a student who continued to leave the front doors of the main building.

When Francis tried to continue walking further again, his arm was gripped firmly by a small hand. "I think we're far away enough now, Francis," Arthur said, releasing his grip on Francis' blazer, "now hurry up."

Despite his cold exterior, Arthur was starting to feel uneasy. Francis annoyed him on a daily basis, but he never took it to these measures just to do so. Also, Alfred was there, and he couldn't even think of how Francis even knew who Alfred was, other than him being the most popular boy in school. Or maybe that was his answer.

Francis looked troubled but kept his cool exterior intact. "Arthur, Alfred, you don't happen to know Ivan Braginski, do you?"

The two in question exchanged looks before turning their attention back to Francis, nodding slowly in unison to the now grim-faced Frenchman.

"Oh, this is horrible!" Francis said, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. "You haven't seen _the photo_, have you?"

At those words Alfred felt something inside of him die. He knew it was only a matter of time before Ivan did serve his revenge, but he usually waited so long; how did he find something so fitting _that _quickly? Then, in perfect timing, a light bulb flickered in both of the boys' minds.

The two of them suddenly felt slightly more conscious of where their hands rested beside them, and whilst Arthur moved his in closer to Alfred to give his a reassuring squeeze, Alfred moved his away, just wishing he had never let what had happened happen, and that he would _never _make that mistake again.

At Alfred's retracting hand, Arthur felt something die inside of him as well, and his dropped lifelessly to his side again, as if nothing had ever happened in that moment, or between them, ever. Arthur looked up to the taller boy beside him, who looked solemnly ahead at Francis. Then his head turned around to look beyond the school gates, his eyes finding the familiar shape of the tree, and the familiar shape of the figure standing under it. Then something clicked.

Tears lined the bottoms of his red eyes. He let out a feral snarl from behind a set of clenched teeth and before anyone could stop him, he ran. He darted through the snow like some kind of crazed animal and he locked his eyes on his target. He was _bloodthirsty. _

Ivan's smile had long since faded when he continued to scroll through the endless comments that lined the screen of his phone. The guilt was growing inside of him and he tried to think of a way to apologize to Alfred for the second time that day. He would have to. He had taken a step too far, and he would have to find a way back. But the damage was already done and he knew it, so he accepted the fate he knew would await him at some point as he tapped the screen a few more times, his thumb millimetres away from where he was about to confirm a conformation to deleting the photo. But then a twig snapped ahead of him.

"_Braginski!_"

Ivan looked up instantly but his mind was a blur, thoughts flashing through him a mile a minute as he turned to run away and never look back. Something collided with his face as he turned on his heels. The side of his head smashed into the hard wood of the trunk for the second time that day, an intense throbbing suddenly spreading across his whole scalp and neck and especially his ear. He felt something warm spreading over his ear, but he didn't know what it was. He felt himself moving through the air again, his whole body being roughly slung around as his back and the back of his head slammed against the tree with such force he heard himself cry out. But the situation was a complete blur. He could only focus on one thing.

He had dropped his phone somewhere. Where was it?

_I was just about to delete that, you idiot, Jones_, Ivan thought as he continued to get slammed against the dense wood of the tree, one fist roughly choking his lungs as the air was forced out of them with a hit to his stomach, another flinging him around loosely by the collar as Alfred gripped tightly onto the fabric.

Ivan managed to get his eyes working as he looked around for mercy, but nobody looked up to him. He tried choking out pleas for help under his breath but no passerbies acknowledged him, let alone even do something. But then he thought back to earlier. He hadn't wanted their attention when he was torturing Alfred, so why did he deserve it then? He didn't. He was getting _all _he deserved.

"Tell me why you did it!" Alfred shouted as he continued to shove Ivan as roughly as he could into the base of the tree. Ivan winced but didn't reply. Alfred started to growl from behind his teeth as he barked out the command again! "Tell me why you did it,_ damn it!_"

"I don't know!" Ivan retaliated. His voice trembled on the last word and he felt himself wanting to cry, whether it was from the immense pain or whatever else he wasn't sure, but in that moment, the thought never crossed his mind.

"_What?_" Alfred barked, his grip on Ivan loosening slightly nonetheless.

Despite the fight that was happening all around him and the constant calls that he was sure Francis was directing at him, Arthur made the sounds turn to a blur as he scrolled through Francis' phone, which Francis had grimly passed to him only moments before. He needed to see the picture. What had he and Alfred even done that was so incriminating, anyway?

The photo itself wasn't so bad to him. They were just holding hands. Even friends do that, don't they?

But then Arthur caught a glimpse at the comments.

'_Alfred's gay?_' Arthur read. He didn't know what to even anticipate in response, so his attention turned to the next one. It was a reply.

'_Still the same guy_' The commenter replied, and Arthur relaxed slightly, the pang of nerves in his stomach settling for a few seconds. But that soon changed when he caught sight of the next one, and the next one, and the next one. The knot in his stomach tightened and the immense feeling of complete doom came back a whole lot _worse_.

'_Ew, they're queer?_'

'_Gay!_'

'_Did you even ever see Arthur? It was so obvious._'

'_Alfred's a fag?'_

Arthur felt his throat constrict at the last one. How could people say that? How could they be so _awful? _What had they even seen what was bad, or disgusting, or that infuriating?Arthur didn't want to read anymore.

He pushed the phone to Francis' chest, making sure not to drop it, but not facing Francis. He turned his attention to the scene unravelling beyond the school gates.

Ivan was half-pinned and half-resting up against the trunk of the tree he hit his head against earlier. Alfred was holding him, his grip on Ivan's collar barely there, letting the taller of the two slip to the ground with no attempts at stopping himself.

Alfred simply stared down at Ivan, amazed by his sudden show of weakness. He never acted like that, _never. _Maybe Ivan had only just realised he _had_ ventured in too deep. Maybe he was starting to feel the swirling, churning, sinking feeling of guilt for once in his miserable life.

But he couldn't stop Alfred or Arthur from falling into the snare he set up, however much he regretted it. Their legs were broken and they couldn't run, or walk, or barely even _crawl. _The situation was out of Ivan's once-responsible hands. They were gone. They had slipped between his fingers before he could even hold a proper grasp on them.

"Just go," Alfred hissed under his breath, his throat tightening as he knew he was the victim, letting his own murderer run free and leaving his cold, dead body buried in the snow, "just don't expect me to ever let you do anything to me again."

"Al–"

"_Just go_, Ivan. I won't let you go again so easily, so, just go while you still can, and it's _not_ a question."

Alfred had been pushing syllables through trembling lips, and Ivan could only stare back with widened eyes. He couldn't tell whether he was threatening emptily or if he would finally deal the fatal sword, but he didn't need to think about it.

Ivan pushed himself to his feet with no assistance, stumbling over his boots slightly but quickly correcting his misbalances. He met the grim gaze of the crumbling boy across from him, and turned his head, ducking away from the scene as if nothing had every happened there. If nothing had, they may have never found themselves in the situation they were in.

Alfred glared daggers into the very spot where Ivan's head smashed just minutes before, and where his body slumped just seconds before, and the outline of winter boots into the compacted snow before him, which Ivan was still imprinting as Alfred's eyes stalked after him.

Alfred thought that if he continued to look Ivan's way any longer he would find his legs chasing toward him and pushing his head straight to the snow-covered concrete beneath them both. So Alfred looked away, closing his eyes and exhaling a frustrated, strangled sigh. He took a step back towards the entrance to the school when something gleamed with the movement of the light. Out of purely not wanting to face Arthur, Francis or anyone else any sooner than he possibly could, he turned toward it, a look of half-genuine curiosity crossing his features.

Then, Alfred realised what it was.

_Ivan's phone_, Alfred thought as he stepped toward it as it reflected the light again like a mirror, picking it out of the snow and rubbing the screen up and down against the fabric of his jumper. He awed at it as he turned it in his hand, and then realised that the power was still on, and with a simple tap on the screen, that it was functioning perfectly, and it had even kept Ivan's web browser open.

Alfred deleted the photo. It wasn't very hard. It seemed as though the option had somehow opened when the phone hit the ground anyway; it wasn't as if Ivan had anything to do with it, so that was the only miraculous explanation. Not that it would have been too hard, anyway. But it's harder to completely delete something once it's already been created.

Alfred was about to turn the phone off, but he couldn't. Whenever he tried to, something out of the corner of his eye kept begging him to take advantage of the situation, but whenever Alfred darted his eyes out to meet the mysterious voice there was nothing. But despite the fact there was nothing there, the voice droned on again, getting louder and more persistent as more and more seconds passed. It was as if the voice _was _Alfred. But that would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?

Alfred heard the sound of snow crunching under the weight of a human and he quickly moved to face the source of the sound. "A-Alfred, are you okay? I saw you fighting and–"

"Yeah," Alfred quickly interjected, effectively cutting off the new voice that called him, holding the mobile firmly between his fingers behind his back as his brother approached, "but don't sweat it, Mattie. I'm fine."

"I-if you're sure," Matthew said, his eyes lingering too long on Alfred's hands that were wrapped tightly around each other behind his back, "so, are we waiting for Arthur, a-and, Francis?"

Francis turned around. He could have sworn he had heard his name, but the voice was so faint he was unsure. "Did you hear that, Arthur?" Francis said, his eyes looking over the other, who was staring aimlessly at the very light flurries of white that easily blurred into the thick mass of the snow already blanketing the roads and concrete.

When Arthur never replied, Francis continued, casting his gaze over Alfred, and Matthew, the quiet boy whom he shared French class with, standing together by a large, bare-leafed tree. "You came with Alfred and Matthieu, non? They are waiting for you."

Arthur glanced up at Francis momentarily before catching himself and setting his eyes firmly on his shoes with a scowl. "Thank you," he muttered, turning his heels to face the all too familiar tree, before pausing and turning his shoulders and neck to face Francis, his scowl replaced with a plain, yet almost grateful, strained smile, "Francis."

As soon as Arthur had said Francis' name, any sight of a smile vanished instantly and he slowly walked toward the duo that were supposedly waiting for him. Francis followed a short while after, convinced that Arthur had showed a lot more of a smile to him than he had ever seen before, which was most likely true considering how unaffectionate he was with Francis, at least.

Perhaps once Alfred had moved schools again Francis would swoop in and take an astonished and devastated Arthur off of his feet in one light movement, comforting all of his troubles away. Why even question his plan? Francis _knew _it would work; Alfred would definitely move on again, wouldn't he? Wasn't the torture from Ivan the reason that Alfred had moved schools from before? Or rather, it was the legacy Ivan had left behind for him that led to his demise. It was just Alfred's luck that he chose to move to the same school that Ivan had moved to _again_. And, once again, Ivan had restarted the ordeal.

As much as Francis sympathised for Alfred, Francis' ordeal with _l'amour_ was a lot more important, so his interests came first. It was in Alfred's interests, too; if he wanted to keep Arthur out of his and Ivan's petty squabbles then it would only be logical for Arthur to not be around Alfred _anyway_, and Francis made a perfectly suitable suitor in his own, and many others as he'll assure you, opinion.

Everything really was working in favour of Francis according to his newly sought-out plan. Well, except for the blue-eyed, glasses-wearing, idiotic fool that continued to stand before him, dragging Arthur and regrettably Francis into his vortex of troubles. What a tiresome situation they were really all in.

_Damn_, Alfred thought, suddenly realising his hands were becoming increasingly damp with sweat as Arthur and Francis moved to join their group. He was still clutching Ivan's mobile for dear life between his fingers, the plastic warming against his palm. Although he was sure he had the right idea, he wasn't sure that everyone else may agree. Besides, he didn't want to get anyone else in any more trouble than they were already in for _theft! _The more Alfred thought about it the more the situation felt like a mugging – he had beaten Ivan to a quivering pulp, and then taken his phone that he had thrown from Ivan's hand.

Then the thought started to settle in Alfred's mind.

Alfred had not only stolen Ivan's phone and effectively hacked his accounts, he had _beaten _him down! He was definitely going to get in trouble then, and if it wasn't from the police then Ivan!

But then a second thought struck Alfred.

"_Just don't expect me to ever let you do anything to me again." _

And then Ivan had walked away from Alfred with no further complaints, to him _or _his statement.

Alfred then found himself wanting to smugly grin, like he had discovered he had the key to a room lined with gold. _I have Ivan's phone_, Alfred thought, rubbing his fingertips against the delicate touch of the screen, a strange pang of guilt surging through him, but he managed to subside it successfully, _and I don't have to give it back just yet..._

"Do you want to head home then, Al?" Matthew said, conscious of the fact that Arthur had arrived, the one he knew Alfred was waiting for.

Alfred nodded gratefully and headed toward the way he came from, but when he heard only his shoes crumpling the snow beneath he spun around, a look of confusion, worry and mild frustration written across his face.

Arthur was stood behind him, but he wasn't moving. He looked up to Alfred pleadingly, willing for him to continue on so they could leave the traumatic events of that school day behind them, buried deep beneath the snow for just a while, so they could finally have normal and peaceful lives until school started up again, however long that would be.

Alfred continued to look confused until he saw Arthur shrink back, keeping his hands glued to the inside of his blazer's pockets. At this Alfred let loose an uneasy smile and took Arthur lightly and a pinch gingerly by the wrists. He un-tucked them from Arthur's pockets and let them hang by Arthur's sides gently.

Much to Alfred's frustration Arthur hurriedly tucked his hands back inside his pockets, only to hear a small whine of frustration escape Alfred's throat. Arthur looked up, eyes widened, before he simply replied with "I-I'm c-cold," his teeth genuinely chattering and a small shiver travelling up his spine, shaking his whole body, as the sudden cold air was sucked down his throat and into his lungs as he breathed.

Alfred laughed in the first time for what seemed years and pulled a pair of wool gloves from his pocket. He handed one to Arthur and kept the other to himself, much to Arthur's raised eyebrow.

"Aren't you going to give me the other one, then?" Arthur said quizzically, slipping the warm fabric over the fingers of one of his hands, the other feeling considerably numb in comparison.

"Nope," Alfred laughed, pulling the other half of the pair of gloves over his own hand, Arthur's left and Alfred's right hand then left exposed and cold, "you're so greedy!"

Arthur only stared with a confused pout protruding on his lower lip as Alfred happily smiled down at him, his obnoxious laugh similarly replaying in Arthur's head in an irritable loop, "Oh? Then how is one of us having one gloved hand each productive?"

"Because, silly," Alfred said, moving one of his hands toward Arthur's side, "I–"

"N-no, no you don't!" Arthur spluttered embarrassedly, his cheeks blotchy and red from either the biting cold or the biting of his thoughts at the back of his uptight mind. But he was uptight for a reason. Arthur picked up again, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're already in more of a mess than we can handle," he paused, and sinking deeper into himself he managed to mutter out the rest of what he wanted to say, "and it's my fault. I shouldn't have grabbed your hand. It was a stupid mistake, and–"

"You're wrong again, Artie!" Alfred beamed, but he quickly softened and let a sweet smile shape his lips. "Think of it as pay back."

Arthur was completely caught off guard. Alfred went from punching to wailing to smiling to beaming in a matter of minutes, seconds even, and it was really starting to give Arthur a headache. Arthur really couldn't keep up with him anymore, but, in his completely dazed and confused state, Arthur shook off all of the weird feelings he was getting about Alfred's crazy mood swings and, with a sigh and a hidden smile, let Alfred wrap his fingers around Arthur's hand.

"Thanks," Alfred heard Arthur whisper to him as they continued walking, Matthew and Francis eventually realising they were leaving, the shier of the two timidly and cautiously walking behind the duo, his steps purposely light and his distance purposely placed, whilst the other walked in a different direction completely, finding himself stepping in the footsteps left by Ivan only tens of minutes before. Francis and Ivan were, after all, neighbours.

Alfred, feeling the heat from Arthur's hand flow through his veins, was positively _euphoric_. He didn't know if it was the pure adrenaline rush from doing something so dangerous in public for the second time or the adrenaline rush from the feel of Ivan's phone sitting in his trousers' back pocket snugly, which he had managed to sneakily switch with the wool gloves from before. He thought it sneaky, anyway, in a way in which he was technically a criminal or in a way that he was doing so to the knowledge of only his self he didn't know, but he didn't care.

All Alfred knew was that he was having the time of his life, and he didn't want to ever stop riding on his adrenaline rush. He might have even considered himself a bit of an adrenaline junky as a joke to himself and a few personal friends, if of course he could tell anybody _why _he was suddenly feeling the pounding of his heart. He had stolen something. He was a criminal. He definitely wasn't telling anyone _that _any time soon!

But also, he was with Arthur again, defying the social barriers that the society put up. What can they define as normal, anyway? Well, he didn't care. It wasn't exactly something they hadn't seen thanks to Ivan's _stupid _phone, which rested in his pocket, safely tucked away. And Alfred was the most popular guy in school, and definitely the second strongest, if not even first – and with his competitor, Ivan, out of the way he was king of the school. _Nobody _would make fun of him!

So, in short, Alfred was happy. He was satisfyingly elated, in fact. He was a thrill-seeker, and he found his buzz – _Arthur. _Arthur Kirkland. And Arthur was happy too. He had finally found a friend who gave him something to be happy about, and a shoulder to lean on if he ever needed it. Of course, there were all his brothers, but they were a bit of a bother.

Then a thought made its way through the fog in Arthur's clouded mind.

Arthur had kicked himself out of his own house and was _suppose _to be rooming with Alfred.

"Oh, say, Alfred," Arthur said, looking up into blue eyes, and when they looked into his he felt the surface of his cheeks and the tips of his ears start to burn, "I, err, well, if it isn't too much, could I, erm, well, how to put this, erm, could I stay with you tonight?"

Then, in Arthur's mind, he punched himself dead on in the eye.

"_N-no_, no, I didn't mean it like _that_, it's just I sort of don't have a place to go tonight and–"

"Sure!" Alfred beamed, and Arthur felt something inside him flutter like a butterfly beating its wings. "But how can you–"

"I'll tell you later," Arthur said, twisting his neck around so all Alfred could see of him was his hair and most definitely _not _the pink that spread all over his face, "but thank you."

Alfred nodded, and hummed to himself in pure delight, because in one moment of peace comes a life time of happiness. And all cliché sayings aside, they were both happy in each other's company, and they knew they could only lift higher, or rather, they couldn't sink any lower.

But that was good enough for them. If up was the only way so be it, because as long as they weren't falling down, they were happy.

And they were happy.

And in their memories, the giddy smiles and all around warm feeling of happiness would last _forever_.


	10. When you're close to me - Chapter 10

**In this section Arthur and Alfred have a sleepover together. Will there be fluff-paradise, or won't there be? I'll leave that up to your imagination, until you reach the end of this chapter and find the answer for yourself!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

* * *

"I know that already, idiot! Just wait a second..."

Arthur swore under his breath as he struggled to get his keys in the door, the chiming of them lightly tapping against each other ringing through the frosty air.

"Artie, do you want me to do it?"

"_No thank you_, Alfred, I'm fine, everything's fine, just let me..."

"I don't think the lock is gonna–"

"Done!"

Once the familiar click of the lock moving into place sounded, Arthur quickly stepped aside, ushering Alfred in and finally himself. As Arthur moved from room to room, Alfred was left shuffling a bit awkwardly at the doorway, moving his weight from one leg to another, his eyes scanning the walls and the floors of the small corridor he stood in.

"So," Alfred announced, his eyes fixed on one photo hung up in particular, "you live with your brothers?"

"Yes, I do, but I thought I've already told you that." Arthur said, making his way to join Alfred again with a bundle in his hands, when he paused upon seeing where Alfred's eyes were directed. "Oh."

On the wall was a photograph of the Kirkland brothers. They were creating a semi-circle around the front of one woman and one man, who were considerably older than the ginger, brunette and blonde-haired boys below them. It wasn't difficult to tell who everyone was. There was Allistor stood to the far right; he was a few inches taller than his Welsh brother, who stood to the far left, as well as his two Irish ones. But Allistor stood seemingly a foot higher than Arthur, the smallest, who was placed dead-on in the centre of the family photo. And then, above the brothers, was the pair. Alfred had his suspicions, more than that, about who they were.

"If you're wondering who they are," Arthur said, Alfred suddenly releasing breath he never realised he was holding in, "they're my parents. Don't worry about it, I never really met them."

Alfred nodded, feeling as though he had been given too large a share of family secrets than he felt comfortable with. Alfred tugged at his shirt collar. "Still, I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"I'm the one who brought up my parents." Arthur spoke back so plainly it was as if what they were discussing something so insignificant it wasn't even worth a response. They could have been speaking about anything, anything _at all_, and it wouldn't have made a difference.

Alfred was finding it a little too much to understand. He bit back a phrase that kept repeating itself in his head. _You can't miss what you never had_, he thought, his teeth starting to press so firmly into his bottom lip he was sure if might start to only that much of a saying ringed true for Alfred and his parents.

"If you're ready to go," Arthur said, successfully interrupting Alfred's thoughts and pulling him away from the pit of despair he was slowly sinking into, "we can. If you want I could go get you some tea first–"

"Nah, don't worry, we've got plenty of coffee at mine," Alfred smiled, his previous grievances disappearing in an instant, "or, if you _really want_, tea."

Arthur nodded with a light grunt and the two made for the doorway. Arthur quickly dropped his travel bag on the floor to pick up a handle of teabags and running back, awkwardly picking up the bag and groaning at Alfred every time he offered to help him, which was every few seconds.

When a thud travelled through the almost empty house a few seconds later from downstairs, Allistor rose from his perched spot on the edge of his bed. He had already heard from his brothers about what happened at Arthur's school that morning, as well as the call he received from them claiming Arthur had disappeared from the school premises. And then Allistor received the text from the very child himself.

How could Arthur always be so irresponsible? How could he leave school with no notice and with no warning? And why would he do it? Arthur had never been so irresponsible in his whole life!

Allistor had heard voices travel through the air and through the walls to his room. He had heard Arthur, as well as the familiar weight of his feet on the floor as he moved about the house, but there was another voice, as well. It was deeper, but only slightly; Allistor could only assume they were around the same age as Arthur, and if that was the case, they would have to have been out of school as well. Even though school had closed early due to the snow spell, there was a clear picture of who the culprit was in Allistor's mind. Alfred. It was Alfred Jones, the boy from next door.

Allistor had only caught sight of the boy a few times, but a few times was enough. He was a bad influence on Arthur and Allistor knew it, and he wasn't exactly proving himself in that instance. Although Allistor often bullied and pushed his sibling around, he did, somewhere in the bottom of his heart, care for him, or at least find himself responsible enough to put him on the right path as his legal guardian. And he was a good guardian, or so he thought.

Allistor sighed into himself, crossing the hall and lightly padding down the staircase until he reached the kitchen. He was in solitude at last so he could finally treat his nicotine addiction, and so he did.

Allistor stuck the end of a fresh cigarette into his mouth, pulling up a lighter he cupped with his palm to the end, flicking the switch until he could finally treat his cravings. He puffed in and out, resting the cigarette between two fingers on one hand and opening the nearest window with the other. He caught sight of the Jones' front door closing with a distant thud, and Allistor couldn't help but sigh to himself again, his eyes flickering to the strain of grey that left his mouth and then the opening in the window, disappearing into the frosty air outside.

"I just hope you're okay, Arthur," Allistor muttered under his breath to no one, taking another drag on the cigarette resting between the two fingers on his hand, "just be careful."

"So, err, how does this whole tea thing work?" Alfred said, juggling an electric kettle between both of his hands, his eyes drifting to the pile of teabags on the countertop.

"Give it here." Arthur said, taking the handle of the kettle from him and twisting the tap of the sink, filling up the kettle and putting it on for boil.

Their hands brushed in that moment, and although a light blush crossed both of their faces almost unknowingly, they realised they were starting to feel so much more natural around each other.

The next few hours weren't in the slightest uncomfortable, the conversation flowing as naturally as if they had known each other an entire lifetime. By the time the sun had long set they realised that they had passed so many hours over mindless chitchat, terrible movies, video games and, in Arthur's case, cup after cup of tea. And it was comfortable when they were together. And they were fine when they were together. And they were happy when they were together. And all bad memories from that morning were washed away that easily. And then Alfred realised; maybe all the abuse he would face wouldn't matter, because he wasn't sticking it out alone. He had Arthur, and Arthur had him. It was them against the world, and although it was an uphill battle, a struggle, it didn't matter. It simply didn't matter.

"You know it's getting late, Alfred. Maybe we should sleep."

"What are you, an old man?" Arthur scoffed and Alfred laughed his signature chuckle. "Why, are you tired? Does Artie want to go to sleep?"

"No!" Arthur shouted, folding his arms over his chest as he shuffled around in his sleeping bag, Alfred copying his movements, awarding him another scoff. "Just because you like to fail school, I don't."

"Nah dude, I haven't flunked school even once!" Alfred said with a laugh and then a yawn as he pouted his lips and looked to the ceiling in thought. "Or, well, maybe _once_, but that's different."

Arthur laughed triumphantly and sent Alfred a smirk, which was returned with a sheepish grin. "So it's settled then."

With a sulky huff, Alfred trudged off towards the bathroom and brushed his teeth, whilst Arthur hanged around by the door, trying to do the same but being stopped by an annoying Alfred who wouldn't let him near the sink edgeways. So, defeated, Arthur turned back to Alfred's room, picking up a set of pyjamas he had roughly tossed into his bag.

When Alfred finally stopped hogging the bathroom, he was rather puzzled by the sight of a fully-clothed Arthur sitting on his bed, clutching a pair of striped cotton pyjamas to his chest, his gaze randomly settling around his bedroom. When Arthur realised Alfred was staring at him he jolted with widened eyes, his face reddening from being caught red handed at peeking at his bedroom nonetheless, before walking off to the bathroom himself.

Alfred settled himself into his sleeping bag again on the floor to the sounds of shuffling from the bathroom that filled the otherwise silent air. He could hear the sound of Arthur's feet padding across the smooth, tile floor, and then some other kind of movement. Alfred closed his eyes and focused entirely on his ears, trying to make out the sound. And then he realised what it was.

_Arthur's getting into his PJs_, Alfred thought with a twinge of butterflies in his stomach, and then as the light sound of fabric brushing softly against skin grew surprisingly louder his cheeks and ears burned and he tried all he could to distract himself from listening in any longer, which he did with no success.

"What are you looking at?" Arthur said with an irritated pout across his lips, his eyebrows drawn together in the middle. Alfred never noticed he entered the room, but when he did, he stared at him behind the cover of his sleeping bag, praying it covered the blush that tinted his cheeks. Luckily, it did. But it only covered it partially.

Arthur looked down at himself, eyeing his attire until he huffed from frustration. "You're hardly one to talk, look at you, wearing tracksuit bottoms and a tatty t-shirt! Sometimes I just don't know what to say." Alfred smiled at this and Arthur rolled his eyes with a sigh. He went over to his own sleeping bag, which was just inches away from Alfred's, and snuggled himself in, bringing the top right up to his nose. Alfred couldn't help but regard it as, to put it simply, _cute._

"Well, Alfred, we should be going to bed now," Arthur commented, looking at Alfred out of the corner of his one open eye, who was _still _staring back at him, "so _close your eyes _and go to bed, alright?"

Alfred felt his cheeks burn brighter as he realised he had been caught staring again and he turned his eyes away, their gaze focusing on a spot on the ceiling, but never fully closing. Arthur inwardly sighed with the knowledge that if Alfred was refusing to go to sleep, he probably wanted a conversation, and if he wanted a conversation, Arthur would be getting no sleep at all that night. But, as much as Arthur huffed and sighed about it, he wanted to be conscious with Alfred for as long as possible that night, because what Alfred would face the following morning at school might put him off the idea of interaction again forever. So, in the short hours that could be their last for awhile, Arthur wanted to enjoy them, and he had a feeling that Alfred felt the exact same way. Arthur's suspicions couldn't be truer.

"Arthur?" Alfred's voice shot through the air, breaking the silence as fast as it had come about.

"What?" Arthur said, shifting to his side to look at Alfred, who did the same in return.

"What do you think is gonna happen when we go back to school?"

There was a long silence that filled the air as Alfred's words hung heavy. "Oh, nothing," Arthur blurted out, finding little confidence in the words he was spewing out, "it's not a scandalous photo."

"Oh, you've seen it?" Alfred said, his voice heavy with some kind of grimness and regret. He seemed to shrink away from Arthur, burying himself deeper under the security of the sleeping bag and turning his head slightly to the side, to which Arthur could only sigh oddly reassuringly.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Alfred," Arthur said, propping himself up on one elbow while keeping his eyes fixed on Alfred and Alfred alone, "you've done nothing wrong, and those people–"

"Already hate me." Alfred interrupted almost dully, his eyes glassed over in deep thought. His mind was lost, left wandering around on its own, but wherever it was, it wasn't in the same place as Arthur.

"Alfred, don't," Arthur said, resting his free hand over Alfred's upper arm, "they don't hate you, don't think like that."

"Don't play with me, Arthur." Alfred muttered, rubbing his hand across his face. He looked tired. He was suddenly so tired, and he didn't even realise it. Or maybe he had always had that tiredness but his subconscious just chose to ignore it. He didn't want to process those thoughts anymore.

"Alfred," Arthur tried again, his grip around the other's arm tightening subconsciously, "you shouldn't believe whatever they say. However you feel, and however you act, it is not their concern at all. Besides," Arthur smiled reassuringly, giving Alfred's arm a light yet comforting squeeze, "that's what friends do."

Alfred wanted to scream at Arthur, or at himself, or just at someone, _anyone_ at all! _That's _not _what friends do_, he told himself, realising his teeth were gripping quite tightly onto his bottom lip, _this isn't how friends should feel!_

"Arthur, I have to tell you something."

"Oh?"

"Yes, it's complicated, and, just don't laugh at me, or hit me. Just, just promise you won't hate me, okay?"

"Alfred, why would I do anything of those things?"

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Arthur, I think..."

Alfred felt himself go silent, thinking of a way to drag himself out of the situation he had stepped into. But he was stronger than that. He was _better _than that. He took a deep breath and tried to meet Arthur's gaze. He kept it for no longer than a second, and although they were covered by the darkness of the night he was thankful for, he didn't find the confidence to keep his eyes there any longer. Those who were close to him seemed to hurt him the most, and although he trusted Arthur, he couldn't keep it in place completely.

There was only one way to prove Arthur's loyalty to Alfred once again; Alfred had tested their connection before, and it held strong, Arthur often holding tighter than Alfred, so it came little surprise to Alfred when he found the very words he had been longing to say drifting out of his mouth in a flash.

"I think I might like you, like, _like-like_ you, or, I, I don't know, but..."

And that was all he needed to say before Arthur realised his feelings.

Arthur had fallen for the blabbering, lovable idiot stuttering inches away from him.

Alfred had fallen for the sensitive, often unsociable boy across from him, who was staring at Alfred with eyes widened to the size of saucepans, his mouth parted and uttering incomprehensible sounds that were supposed to be words he just couldn't find or form.

Then, something unexpected happened.

Alfred sprang up. He grabbed Arthur gently by either shoulder and leaned in, closing his eyes as he made contact. Arthur felt a soft touch upon his lips, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he welcomed the embrace, and wished for it to last for as long as the sun continued to rise in the morning. And it did.

It was each of their first kisses; they couldn't have wished for anything, or anyone, better.


	11. But now someone's watching - Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

* * *

"I will _kill _Jones!" Ivan almost shouted, cursing under his breath with pure rage once he had realised the slight weight loss in his pocket once again.

"Do you want me to do it for you, big brother?" a heavy accented voice calmly asked in a higher key. "I could easily break him down for you and avoid your pact, though it still seems pointless to me, you being so strong and all."

Ivan visibly tensed at the request, but with Natalia, Ivan's sister, she never asked for an answer; the answer was always yes when it came to helping her big brother. "No, no, do not do that please, Natalia," Ivan said, his chest slowly relaxing as he went uninterrupted, "I will ask him myself when we next see each other. I can't imagine why he would want to keep it, anyway. He would only break our agreement, and he should know not to do that."

"But big brother," Natalia said, her voice laced with worry, "do you not remember last time? He surely wants to take revenge! I say we strike first, and–"

"It is not necessary, sister. Extra conflict is not good for us," Ivan said, lowering his head as his mind drifted off to a memory he would rather forget, "it has never worked out before."

Natalia sighed. "Okay, big brother, I completely trust your decision, but if he even bruises you, I–"

That was all Natalia could say before a very large bang that erupted from the edges of the door spread through the room. Ivan was gone, and she was left standing alone, giving her total silence to run the past conversation through her mind. And, of course, her _own _secret plans regarding her brother and his less than worthy opponent. It was a game that the Russian and Belarusian siblings would win, one way or another.

Ivan strode out into the snow, his scarf tightly wrapping rings around his neck and his brown, furry hat pulled securely over his head and ears, the back of his pale hair barely flicking out from underneath it. He had his mind set on one thing alone; he was too determined to change it for almost anything in the world – Alfred.

Ivan had decided he would approach the boy and demand his mobile back friendlily and, if Alfred didn't respond to kindness, he would follow him home and corner him into giving it back, right on the turning point into the road Alfred's house was on. It was out of Ivan's way but it was well worth it; he had to get his phone back, he _had _to. There are some things that are better left buried under the dirt where they came from, and if they are ever to be dug up, the consequences were guaranteed to be dire. Ivan's phone was one of those things.

Through the thick, icy mist, Ivan could make out the blurry shapes of two figures on the opposite side of the street, both appearing to be in the colours of Ivan's own school uniform. They were walking practically shoulder to shoulder, the sounds of talking echoing through the empty air in a muffled mess. But it was enough. Ivan didn't have second thoughts about who the two could be.

"Arthur, _Alfred_, it's so nice to see you, yes? Please wait there, I'm coming over." Just like his sister, Ivan wasn't one for requests. He preferred demands; they were much harder to decline.

"Is that Ivan?" Arthur asked almost timidly, his grip on Alfred's hand tightening at the very thought.

Unlike before, the grip was never loosened by the other party, and the larger hand squeezed back, never faltering or pulling away, even at the knowledge a potential bully – Ivan nonetheless – was nearing. The thought of Alfred holding on made Arthur giddy inside, but at that point in time, his nerves were overriding his body and mind too much to be able to feel the happiness that blossomed.

"Thank you for staying put, comrade!" Ivan said with a beaming smile, his face glowing red from the extreme cold of the outside, but he was used to it. "Oh, _comrades_." Ivan corrected himself, his smile turning toward the shorter of the two as his eyes stared down at him.

"The pleasure's ours." Arthur muttered, his eyes meeting the floor.

Arthur could put up with Ivan just enough, but Alfred couldn't. "What do you want, Ivan? I thought we agreed not to contact each other again."

Ivan's smile faltered for a noticeable second before it perked again, increasing in its intensity. "Ah, yes, that is true Alfred, it is just that when we had our disagreement I may have misplaced my phone, and I was wondering if you have it on your person. So, do you?"

Alfred considered it. The phone sat comfortably in his back pocket, but he didn't think anyone else knew. So, where was the harm in keeping it for a little longer? He would return it the next day, making up some story about how he found it on the roadside mysteriously, nothing more, nothing less. He would excuse himself somehow. Nobody knew. There was no danger.

"No, I don't, actually," Alfred said with a small, sympathetic smile planted on his lips, "have you checked in school? They keep anything they find there."

Alfred was sure he saw Ivan's eyebrow twitch for a second, but he swiftly ignored it as Ivan's smile continued to be as perky and bright as ever. But genuine it was not. "Oh, okay, thank you, Alfred, Arthur, it has been a real pleasure."

Ivan turned away, and as soon as his face was out of the prying eyes of his two enemies behind him, his smile instantly dropped, his eyebrows knitting together in a deep frown. How could Alfred be so naïve? Ivan knew from the beginning he was harbouring his phone. It was probably sitting comfortably in his back pocket, only feet away from Ivan's twitching hands. That arrogant fool would pay for his mistake; it was his fault! If he had simply handed Ivan his phone back, their relationship would have been fine, but he clung onto it like a greedy magpie. What could he want with it? But Ivan knew what he wanted with it. He had sensed it all along.

Ivan decided he would have to result to his second plan. He would target Alfred on his way home. It was the only way left.

The rest of the day passed by reasonably easy as Ivan failed to show his face even once to the duo who had encountered him earlier. Whilst Alfred and Arthur's nerves started to ease, Ivan was plotting his plan. He had already decided that, like in his original plan, he would pull Alfred into the bushes when he rounded the corner, the very corner that Ivan would be hiding by. He would figure out what to do with Arthur later on – it didn't matter, because he only needed his phone back, nothing that Arthur was involved in. Only time would tell what Alfred had done to it, and with it, and he didn't want to give Alfred any more time than he already had.

Ivan left school early, complaining of an aching stomach. The front office asked Ivan to call his older sister, Irunya, or Katyusha as Ivan liked to call her, over their phone, as his phone was still unsurprisingly missing. However, due to recent conflicts, Irunya was trying as hard as she could to stay away from Ivan and try to get into a new kind of crowd, but this didn't stop Ivan from lying about it.

"Yes, she is picking me up just down the road. I will go now." Ivan said, slinging his rucksack over his back as he left the front doors with no agreement from the school staff. He didn't exactly need it, though; it wasn't as if anyone was _actually _taking him home. He had other places to be.

Shortly after Ivan left the school premises, a bell rang out, signalling the end to the school day. And as every student headed to their form room and then for the front door, Ivan sat in place, in wait, settling amongst the bushes at the top of Alfred's street road. He would wait. Then he would pounce.

Ivan's ears almost physically perked as he heard voices come from around the corner and shoes slapping against the concrete path in almost complete unison. Ivan tried to look without poking his head too far around the corner as he crouched down, barely visible against the well-blended shrubbery.

The voices became more audible. "So are we going back to yours?" one voice said with an American accent, one Ivan could only define as Alfred Jones.

Another voice replied, distinctly British of some kind, ringing with worry. "No, Allistor is scheduled to arrive at home in such a short amount of time; I don't think it would be wise."

There was a sigh, and then the American voice started to whine. "Man, your brother's are _so _annoying. Well, I guess it's okay."

"Good," the other said, their mood audibly brightening, "thank you, then."

"How idle," Ivan commented under his breath, quickly losing interest with the two's trivial conversation, "now is not the time for chitchat."

Ivan ran around the corner as fast as lightning. He hoped, just before jumping out, that he had identified the two as the right people, or otherwise he would have far too much explaining to do! Luckily, he had, and the two familiar faces registered the look of fear he hoped all too much to stir. He would have to scare them into giving him his phone back if they were so reluctant to do it willingly. Perhaps some encouragement would be useful.

Ivan was the first to speak. "Give me my phone back, Jones. I know you have it; I know you're keeping it from me!"

"I-I don't, I swear!" Alfred shouted, the weight in his back pocket suddenly pulling him more and more close to the ground. "I don't have your phone! Just leave us alone!"

Ivan smirked as he quickly found Alfred's weakness. It was quite shocking; he hadn't been very subtle _at all_, he was really draining it of all the fun! "Who said that the two of you were involved in the situation?" Ivan said with a light shrug, his smile growing at the lump that moved down Alfred's throat. "Oh, well, okay then, Jones, if you are so eager to include your innocent friend here, I won't mind extending the group."

"_No!_" was all Alfred could shout before Ivan lunged forward, his iron grip tightening around Arthur's arm as he pulled him backwards, taking himself and Alfred's seemingly weaker friend metres away around the corner in the path.

"What are you doing? Release me this instant!" Arthur said as he was dragged along, stumbling over his own feet as he decided between fighting back or just going with Ivan's strong grip. Once he realised fighting back was futile, he tried to at least keep up the pace at with Ivan was running, which slowed the slightest in return.

"I won't hurt you, Arthur," Ivan said, his running turning to jogging as he tried to give Arthur a break, "I just need your uncooperative friend to give me my phone back, and when he does, I'll let you run free."

"Didn't you hear him? He doesn't have it, Ivan!" Arthur shouted, to which he received a raised eyebrow and mocking smile.

Ivan's smile turned to a light chuckle, which was surprisingly depressing to hear. "You don't know him too well, then; Alfred is an excellent liar, I should know." Then, as Alfred rounded the corner, Ivan's pace picked up again, and he was back to dragging Arthur behind him.

Suddenly, something grabbed a hold of Ivan and pulled him backwards, causing him to stumble over air as he was steadied by a pair of relatively small hands on his back, when the owner of said hands started speaking calmly. "I should have known you wouldn't have played fair, Ivan. I want nothing to do with your feud, it's stupid."

"Arthur?" Ivan questioned unbelievingly, turning around to meet the irritated gaze of Arthur below him, and the furious eyes of Alfred racing towards him. He was racing towards Ivan, _and_ Arthur.

"I'm sorry, Arthur." Ivan muttered as he pushed the smaller boy behind him, meaning the only thing between Ivan and Alfred was the empty air and space that soon closed within seconds.

"Why are you doing this?" Alfred fumed, his eyes meeting with the taller Russian's in hopes of intimidating him. If anything, they only showed despair. "What could you want with him?"

"I want my phone," Ivan added, his eyes searching each of Alfred's pockets on his uniform, hoping to find the rectangular shape of his mobile protruding out, "and I want you to give it to me. Then, I'll give you back Arthur."

"I'm not just some piece of meat you can throw around, you arsehole!" Arthur shouted, catching the attention of Ivan for just enough time that Alfred could lunge forward, pushing Ivan into the bushes as he and Arthur ran off as fast as their legs could carry them.

"Damn it," Ivan grumbled as he pushed himself up and dusted off his clothing, cursing himself at the absence of the phone in his own pocket once again, "damn it, damn it, _damn it!_"

But then something miraculous happened. Ivan started laughing. It wasn't a hearty laugh, or a laugh of amusement, or even happiness. It was a laugh simply out of pure _triumph. _

"Arthur's house," Ivan muttered to himself as his eyes trailed after two distancing figures, the doors of a particular house banging shut with quite force after they ran into it, "it looks like I may be paying it a visit."

Ivan chuckled again and released his backpack from his shoulder, setting it down on the ground until he had rummaged through it enough to find a pen and one of his class books. He pulled out the book and ripped out a blank rage. Then, he pulled out the pen.

Ivan started to write down a number followed by several words as he folded up the paper and placed it in his pocket, tucking it in securely enough that there could be no way it would ever fall out.

"I will come for you, Alfred," Ivan said as he read over the address in his hands, then number on the front of a house door and the street sign behind him, "I will come for you and I don't think you'll enjoy my visit. But it serves you right."

Ivan zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder again, heading back toward the school and then his house as he started to figure out how his little confrontation would go that evening.

"I'm coming for you."


	12. What do you mean? - Chapter 12

**Sorry if Natalia comes off a bit out of character, if she does, this is because I was exploring the recent history between Russia and Belarus and, in that, Russia is persistent in wanting "to become one" (literally) or form a kind of EU alliance system. However, they do have a pact of friendship and cooperation, which is why all of the traditional Belarus-ness is still installed. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

* * *

"Did you hear something?" Alfred asked, pressing his ear to the smooth surface of the door.

Arthur and Alfred had stepped through the very door only minutes before. It was then that a cold, freezing chill ran up Alfred's spine, and he froze, stating that something was wrong. Reluctantly, Arthur sighed and followed him back to the front door. Then Alfred heard something.

"What exactly _did _you hear?" Arthur muttered, either to himself or Alfred, but it was as if it was to himself, anyway; Alfred was too absorbed by the other side of the door to hear Arthur.

"I don't know, but it was like a voice," Alfred whispered, conscious of the fact he could alert the other mysterious party to his presence, "and then I could have sworn they were clawing at the door!"

Arthur scoffed. "You're being slightly ridiculous." Arthur said with a voice dripping with annoyance, but then he caught sight of Alfred's genuinely frightened face and he couldn't help himself from softening. "If it means _that _much to you, I'll look."

"But Arthur, what if the thing that's there gets you!" Alfred said with worry. Arthur could only sigh as he lightly pushed Alfred aside and pulled open the door he had been leaning against. Alfred quickly jumped to the side, hiding behind the front door that swung open, effectively acting as a shield for him. It was fortunate he was so lucky to have thought of that idea.

"What are _you _doing here?" Alfred heard Arthur spit out, and at that he could only gulp. Had Ivan caught up to them again? It was Alfred's worst nightmare, and probably Arthur's, too, and he could only hope he had assumed wrong.

Alfred had assumed wrong. Ivan wasn't at the door. What stood face-to-face with Arthur was a lot, _lot _worse than he could have _ever _imagined.

"Where's that American bastard who stole my brother's phone?" the voice asked with a nasty bite. Then Alfred felt his breath hitch, as well as heard it. He started to think a string of swear words in his head as he kicked himself, just praying that the voice hadn't heard him. His prayers went unanswered.

When Natalia advanced, trying to push herself through the door, Arthur stepped forward. Natalia's frown only increased and her eyes seemed to become a lot darker as they narrowed into thin slits.

"Weren't you trying to get away from your brother, Natalia?" Arthur asked with a courageous gleam in his eye.

"This is vital." she said plainly in return before lunging forward again, only to bash into Arthur as he quickly sidestepped. He was starting to get on her last nerves. He was just like a human shield for his Alfred, which somewhat reminded her of herself and Ivan. She let the thought slip.

"You shouldn't let him push you around." Arthur retaliated, trying to get the conversation to start again, quickly glancing over to Alfred who started to unwind himself from his previous panic. But Arthur's eyes suddenly became more troubled as he shot him another glance, before his eyes wandered back to Natalia.

Natalia didn't even entertain what Arthur said, it was too ridiculous to even humour. Natalia had tried to drift away from her brother, getting into the same groups that her sister tried at; they were in a similar situation, after all, and Natalia was nice to _some _people, so she was convinced it would work. But that quickly changed. She found her brother approaching _her_, and although she was slightly hesitant to interact again, she was simply curious. She let him speak. He talked. She listened.

Before long, the two were on firm grounds again. She was delighted at the prospect, as was Ivan; she could _finally _have good relations with her brother, like all and every group of siblings should!

"We're good together. It's cooperation." Natalia said, her voice panging with the agitation she felt and so direly needed to express.

"Cooperation doesn't equal good," Arthur said, shooting a few more glances at Alfred, urging him to take the hint to subtly sneak away, "and your brother is using you."

"Don't say that," Natalia spat, a low growl erupting from behind her clenched teeth and jaw, "we've had our fights, it's natural!" She said, barely even considering what fell out of her mouth. The conversation felt so natural, itself.

"He started to take you away, Natalia," Arthur said, the worry and frustration in his voice subsiding temporarily so he could take up a much softer, more caring tone, "and he did the same to your sister."

"He wants it to be like old times!" Natalia screeched at the top of her voice, but then she found another one, the anger, like Arthur's, dried up slightly, leaving her to only feed on solemn thoughts. "He wants me to be by his side forever."

"But his motives are unclear," Arthur finished, hoping that was what was running through her mind, _anything _to make her leave sooner, "to you, at least."

"No, no they're not," Natalia muttered to herself, before something internally clicked and her brow furrowed, creasing her features as her anger boiled over, "and it's perfectly clear of what _my _motives are, and that is finding–"

Natalia suddenly stopped talking and stared with widened eyes beyond who she was addressing. Arthur froze. He turned his head around in silence, his mouth dropping open and his eyes widening in a flash of regret and pure pain as he witnessed Alfred in the process of ducking out of a different door, one which led further into the house.

In Arthur's state of distant shock and distraction, Natalia grabbed him tightly by the shoulder until her knuckles went white before throwing him away to the side, her target her only new focus.

"Give me the phone and I'll cause you little harm." Natalia said with clear determination, her eyes scanning the body of the victim in front of her cynically until she spotted a rectangular bulge protruding from his back pocket, her eyes trained on it as Alfred fully turned around, his back, in what was an effort to run away, turning away from her and his front facing her straight on. Her sights quickly flashed to Alfred's fear-stricken eyes.

Alfred sighed under the pressure building on him as he realised what the sensible, responsible and _right _thing was to do. "Fine, here," Alfred said, pulling the phone from his back pocket and handing it to Natalia, "now leave."

Natalia snatched the phone away and tapped at the screen and a few bottoms so fast her fingers were a blur, before abruptly stopping, her eyes deeply focussed on whatever showed itself on the screen. Then she looked up.

Greeting Natalia were the strained looks of frustration from a pair of bright blue and an expectant glare from a pair of bright green, the owner of which picked himself up from the floor he was pushed down on. She returned the looks, realising herself but caring nonetheless. She had what she wanted, but she certainly wasn't done with _them_.

"Tell me what you've done to big brother's phone," Natalia demanded, turning to Alfred and shutting off Arthur from her one-on-one battle, "and if you don't answer, I will personally assassinate you."

Arthur only scoffed at the threat imposed on the boy beside him, brushing off all looks of confusion at the new knowledge that Alfred _had _indeed taken what he didn't own. Alas, _taken _doesn't necessarily mean _stolen_, or that's at least what Arthur hoped. At least that's what Arthur reassured himself with, repeating the words over and over in his mind until he found his theory plausible.

"I didn't steal it," Alfred said, consciously deciding to avoid Natalia's very direct question, "it fell out of Ivan's hand, or pocket, or whatever! Blame him; he's the stupid shit who lost it in the first place!"

Natalia felt something snap. "What did you just say, you worthless piece of scum?" Natalia said, edging closer and closer towards Alfred with small but sturdy steps. "What did you say, you disgusting _fag?_"

Alfred visibly pained at the word_. _It bit at him, repeating in his mind unwillingly. It wouldn't leave his head. He had just been called something he hadn't even come to terms with. He had heard that word his entire life, and it saddened him to hear it once again in what was supposed to be his new life. His expression turned pained and his brows furrowed as he tried to fight back the memories. Oh, the memories.

"Well?" she said, the irritation she felt ringing off the end of the word and echoing off the walls in the house. "Tell me what you said, you disgusting–"

"_Don't_ say it again."

Natalia's eyes widened as she heard a reply, but saw no mouth moving on Alfred. Curious, she turned to face the source of the sound, seeing Arthur stood to the side, his eyes focused on the ground with his arms folded tightly over his chest. She didn't notice the sudden quietness in his voice or the tensed, white knuckles he had tucked under his arms. It pained him to pull his hands that close together. His fingernails were starting to dig into his palm, and his joints were starting to ache in pain. But she didn't notice. She didn't notice at all.

Natalia snapped back. "I don't need your worthless interruptions, you pathetic–"

"_Don't_," Arthur interrupted, his anger ringing in Natalia's and Alfred's ears as it rose inside of him, "I already told you to _stop _saying that!"

"Just take the phone and go." Alfred joined in, finding a burst of courage in the sweet hope that she would leave and never return; he just _pleaded_ she would never say that word or anything else to him or Arthur again.

Natalia growled but turned on her heels, her grip on the phone consciously tightening as she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. She was gone. She had left. But she had only left the front door; she hadn't left their lives, and certainly not Ivan's, and when Ivan was involved there was often danger. Danger was hard for Alfred and Arthur to handle, for _anyone _to handle.

Arthur had something lingering on his mind. "So, you had the phone?"

Alfred chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as the pained laughter faded quickly, his brows furrowing further as he thought back to what Natalia had said, and all the demons that unfortunately stalked the word for him. "Yeah, well, you didn't expect me to tell him outright, did you?"

Arthur thought about this for awhile, before nodding, whether to the question or his thoughts was unclear. "But why did you hang onto it?"

Alfred didn't attempt a laugh to lighten the mood that time. It wasn't working for either of them, and if anything, it made Alfred all the more depressed. "I thought I could do something with it, y'know, fight back and all that." Alfred said with a sheepish shrug.

Arthur sighed and nodded again. "Alfred, just don't do it again. I don't think fighting fire with fire is helpful."

"Y-yeah, I guess so," Alfred said, his eyes finally meeting Arthur's after pinpointing random spots in any other direction since Natalia had left, "but in this case, I don't know."

Arthur looked up to him, his brows laced together with a balanced mix of confusion, reluctance and interest. Interest overpowered all the other emotions completely. "What do you mean?"


	13. The call on the other end - Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

* * *

"Big brother, I have something to tell you!" Natalia sung almost sweetly through the front door to her and her brother's apartment, her irritation flicking off on each word as she struggled to mask it.

Natalia thrashed the small key inside of the door lock, waiting until she heard that familiar click, when she ripped it out and slammed the door behind her.

After Natalia was greeted with a deathly silence, she tried again. "Big brother!" her voice sung dangerously. "Answer me!"

"Okay, okay, Natalia, I am up here." Natalia heard Ivan's faint reply through the ceiling.

Natalia quickly stormed off, her boots colliding with each step of the wooden staircase with a loud _bang_. "Big brother, I found your phone!"

Ivan gulped. "You _found _my phone? But Jones had it." Ivan already knew what would come next, but it didn't shake him any less when he heard the worrying words he dreaded.

"I _beat it _out of him!" Ivan heard Natalia exclaim, almost gleefully, as she pushed open the door to his room. But there was no triumphant grin on her face. Her expression was a lot grimmer.

"I also found some other things," she said, her eyes glazed over in thought, "_brother_."

"Oh?" Ivan almost choked, his voice cracking as the painful sounds left his throat. Then, he asked the question he had been dreading. "What would that be?"

Ivan didn't need to wait for the answer. He was ripped into shreds as soon as he saw Natalia's lips part.

"Brother, your phone..."

Ivan was dying. He could feel the rapid and heavy pounds of his heart in his chest and the blood rushing in his ears. Ivan didn't often get scared, but in some situations, he couldn't help it. He was only human, wasn't he? But that didn't mean anything. Humans have control. He wouldn't be controlled by his fear anymore, he couldn't allow it!

"Natalia, it is not something I want to discuss." Ivan stated. He had authority. He could stop his sister, as simple as that; he had ultimate control in the end, didn't he? Didn't he?

Natalia stuttered on syllables. "But big brother, I–"

Ivan fought back. "_No_, Natalia, I would rather not–"

"You know best." she said simply, taking Ivan by surprise, spinning on her heels and walking back in the direction she came from, before abruptly stopping.

Almost hesitantly, she pulled something out of her pocket and threw it in the direction of her brother, knowing he would catch it. He did, and much to his relief, it was his phone, completely in order. Or, so it looked.

"It is yours." she continued. Natalia then walked away and pulled on the door handle behind her, the door closing with a small thud once she had taken a few steps down the hall.

Ivan didn't hesitate. Natalia's curt reply was something he wanted. He wanted control. He _had _control. But, for her to give up with such a little fight was unnerving. She had _definitely _done something! Why else wouldn't she fight back? Isn't it normal to fight back?

Why wouldn't Ivan's sister fight back?

"Everything seems fine," Ivan commented to himself, scrolling the screen on his device, "nothing is wrong." Then, something caught his eye.

"Perhaps I should finally call him..." Ivan muttered under his breath, calling up the contact listed under simply _Jones_. When the call was returned, Ivan put the device to his ear.

"I-Ivan?" Alfred stuttered over the line. Arthur groaned with a pained expression to his face when he heard the dreaded name. They should, and somewhat did, see it coming, though; what _else _would be expected when _Natalia _pays a visit to your front door?

"Ah, yes, Alfred, it is good to hear from you," Ivan said with a light smile into his mobile, "I am calling you to ask of you a question."

Alfred gulped. "A question, huh?" A deathly silence fell between the two on either ends of the same town. "What _kind _of question?"

"Ah, that is a funny question in itself, Alfred," Ivan chuckled to which Alfred couldn't help but question the genuineness in it, "because I am almost certain you know the answer to it."

"O-oh," Alfred choked on his syllables, his heartbeat becoming more and more unsteady every passing second, "yeah, um, I'm not so sure about that–"

"You took my phone, Alfred." Ivan stated curtly. Ivan heard another's breath hitch over the line, and for at least a minute there was nothing. "Alfred?"

"S-sorry, dude, I zoned out for a bit I guess," Alfred said as he stumbled over his tongue, his generic obnoxious laugh then cracking into the speaker of his phone, "but I didn't steal it, remember, dude? I found it, and I'm sure you didn't want it lying about in the snow or anything, right?"

Ivan then smiled to himself sweetly. "Oh, but Alfred, I don't remember personifying it as _stealing_, do _you?_"

Alfred's laugh boomed into the speaker again. "No! Slip of the tongue, it was totally unintentional, sorry, but I gotta go, so, err, bye!"

Alfred quickly pressed a button and ended the call. Then, he could only stare down at the device in his hand, his mind replaying what had just happened.

Arthur was dumbfounded. "So, what did he say?"

Alfred seemed to swiftly snap out of whatever trance he fell into. "Nothing, nothing important, Arthur, just something about his phone, but nothing important about it."

Arthur sighed, but not in annoyance. "You know, Alfred, you're the kind to talk too much when you're nervous." He sighed again, but not out of frustration, or irritation. "Just know that, well, this whole feud between you and Ivan isn't isolated to only you two." He paced, but not out of impatience or thought. He stopped in his tracks because of a realisation. He sighed at it and felt his cheeks warm up; he tried to look away to cover it, but his efforts were futile. "Alfred, I suppose what I am trying to say is that, well, I'm standing by you, I won't leave, and I will continue to stand by you until the end."

The two stayed silent for a long moment, causing Arthur to blush even more furiously and turn away, before he heard Alfred's laughter, but it was a lot sweeter than his usual chuckle, a lot more reserved. It was a laugh reserved for Arthur and Arthur alone. "Thanks, Artie," he said sweetly, a soft smile in place, causing Arthur to turn around to meet him with widened eyes, "but I know you do already, geez! Talk about sappy!"

Arthur scowled and muttered something under his breath through gritted teeth before turning away again, his bright red cheeks fading to a more respectable pink. "Yes, well."

Alfred smiled to himself, letting all thoughts of Ivan and everything else in the world leave him for a few seconds. A few seconds was enough.

"_Thank you._" Alfred whispered as he pulled Arthur into a long hug from behind. Alfred felt Arthur tense under him at first, but it subsided, and he leaned into Alfred affectionately. It wasn't the typical tackle-type bear hug Arthur had come to assume of the taller boy, but one that was, like his laugh, a lot more reserved, but not in a way that he wanted to cover up. It was a lot more intimate than that; it was worth so, so much more.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly and Alfred pulled away, his hands resting on either of Arthur's shoulders as he smiled sheepishly at him. Arthur could only return with a light smile that graced his lips. "Yes, well." Arthur repeated, his eyes meeting the floor again as something more solemn came over him. "What are we to do about Ivan?"

Alfred stroked his chin in thought and stuck the tip of his tongue out of the edge of his lips. Eventually, he replied with a mild shrug and a slowly growing beaming smile. "Don't doubt my powers Artie, or yours either! We'll be the perfect fighting duo, and then it would be two against one! Heck, even that friend of yours, Francis or whatever his name was, could join our team!"

Arthur's troubled gaze didn't lift. "But Ivan has his nutty sister, let alone the rest of the school."

Alfred smiled solemnly, a sight that felt like it should be uncommon, but to Arthur, it seemed like sad expressions graced Alfred's face all too often. "Don't worry, Arthur, it will work out. Everything eventually does, right?"

For once, even Alfred was finding it difficult to fully believe his own naïve theories. For once, Alfred understood just how hard it would be for him to escape his, and now Arthur's, mess. But good always conquers evil, doesn't it? So it would be impossible for Alfred and Arthur, the two soul bound allies, to lose to Ivan and his fascist take on the world. Wouldn't it? That was what all of the fairy books said, the ones Alfred's parents used to read to him as a very young child. The same parents who disowned him what was just a matter of years later.

The world was harsh, and when people like Ivan existed it always would be. But people could change. Alfred had always been one for freedom, the idea that anyone has the power to do anything they like, including change. So Ivan _could _change. Maybe it would just take some encouragement? Maybe, as ludicrous as it sounded, _Alfred _could teach Ivan to change? That boy always was a bit of a power-hungry maniac, much like Alfred in that sense, too. But there can't be two supreme leaders of the world, and with Ivan and Alfred, there was a constant clash, that much had been previously proven.

Alfred suddenly had a new idea.

* * *

**This chapter was reasonably short, but I felt that the story needed a break here. Not only that, but I hope to contribute to **_**the special season of love**_** that is coming up shortly (but I don't know if that would even be able to be worked into this story, considering it's still in January, but I may be able to figure something out)!**


	14. A heart on another line - Chapter 14

**Sorry for the wait, but you can blame that on writer's block as well as school. But on with the show!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters presented in this fanfiction or Hetalia**

* * *

Alfred wasn't quite sure what brought him to do it. Maybe it was the overwhelming guilt he felt when he looked Arthur in the eyes, his pure, innocent, beautiful eyes. Maybe it was the bubbling hatred Ivan inflicted inside of him, the kind that made him feel disgusted, like he couldn't even look at Ivan without the awful memories of _then _flashing in his mind; it always made him feel like a deer in the headlights. The images, sounds and thoughts he felt in those times were blinding, and he lost all sense of wellbeing. But that was just it.

Somehow or another, Alfred found himself standing on the roadside, looking Ivan's apartment building up and down. And as cars whizzed by the on the icy roads, Alfred was formulating his plan in his mind. He had already built it up, ran it through a few times. But Alfred knew better. Ivan was an unpredictable character, let alone his allies, and Alfred couldn't help but linger on the fact that he may be running too far ahead with an idea that was just going to lead him into a dead end. He wasn't the only believer of this.

"You want to go ahead with this?" Arthur said, turning from his spot next to look at Alfred dead-on. Alfred turned too, showing Arthur his ever confident grin. Arthur wasn't convinced.

Alfred pouted slightly. "Look, I know you're a bit doubtful about all this, but Ivan is just as smart as us! Actually, he's cunning, manipulative, downright evil if you ask me, and–"

"Please, just skip all of that," Arthur interrupted with a roll of his eyes, sighing to himself as he thought about their current situation, and perhaps the one they were about to enter according to Alfred's so-called plan, "I know you're driven by your hatred for Ivan and all, but don't you remember what I said? What you _agreed _on? Don't fight–"

"Don't fight fire with fire, I got it," Alfred mimicked, playing his obnoxious grin again, "but do you remember what I told you? What _you _agreed on? _This _case is different, because Ivan–"

"Don't remind me." Arthur blurted out. His eyes fell away from Alfred as he sighed deeply once more, his head tilting back to get a clear view of the apartment they were soon to be climbing. "Do you really think it's a good idea? What will this even accomplish, worthless blackmail on Ivan?"

"That's _exactly _what this will do! Sure, time can't turn back and all, but that doesn't mean this can't be fixed!" Alfred explained, looking the building up and down.

When Arthur only sighed, Alfred eagerly grabbed for his hand, his small, warm, shaking hand, and he laced their fingers together. Alfred squeezed it lightly with a beaming smile on his face, feeling the heat from Alfred's palm spread into his. It took a moment, but Arthur squeezed back.

"Weren't you the one saying that everything fixes itself?" Arthur said. His eyes met Alfred's, and although they were only inches apart, they looked so far away. "Weren't you the one saying that time heals all wounds?"

Alfred gave a sheepish shrug and half of his mouth pulled up. He couldn't manage a whole, proper smile; who was he convincing, anyway? "I think I may doubt that stuff when I look back, Arthur." Arthur lowered his gaze, and Alfred squeezed his hand again, prompting him to meet his eyes. He complied. "C'mon, dude, there's no need to sulk about it! Sure, Ivan may have sabotaged... well, pretty much everything in my life to date, and sure, he may have caught you up in it, too. But there is one thing you are forgetting! That can _all _be reversed with a little agreement, right? He says a few things, we say a few things, _boom! _Everything is back to normal!"

Arthur almost couldn't stop himself from laughing humourless chuckles. "No more naïve theories, huh?"

Alfred moved his hand to pat Arthur lightly on the back. "I know it's not ideal, but..." his words trailed off; his mind didn't come up with much more of an explanation. There wasn't one.

The whole situation would _never _be ideal, never in a million years. How could trying to hide what no one else had to hide _ever _be ideal? This realisation had been fresh on both of their minds from the beginning, Alfred's especially, but perhaps something changed. Perhaps it was only a rash decision in the heat of the moment.

But, even if it was just a shot in the dark, there was always hope for a pinprick of light in the tunnel. It's better than nothing, isn't it? _Yes _was the only answer Alfred could formulate, _at least it was something_, he went on. Arthur didn't put up much of a fight, anyway.

"Let's get going." Arthur said, trying to mask his true feelings with a light smile, _anything _to ease the dire tension that floated around the pair. Alfred agreed with a quick nod. He wanted the same. He wanted peace in his life for once, just once. Was that so much to ask?

The two trekked onwards, Alfred taking the lead and settling his gaze and fingertips lightly on the caller box and its many buttons. He was hesitant at heart but didn't have to think twice before he forced himself to push down on them. He needed to speak to Ivan. His life practically depended on.

Alfred leaned in, his forehead lightly resting against the rough wall as he tried to speak into the indicated place. He was finding it difficult, but he tried to shove the negativity somewhere below him. "Ivan, I need to talk to you. It's really important, and–"

_Buzz. _

Alfred's head snapped around instantly, his eyes staring blankly as Arthur pulled on the door handle, swinging the entrance to the building, a set of glass-pained double doors, wide open. "I guess he must really think something of you." Arthur muttered, stepping aside and letting Alfred pass through before him. He complied, saying his thanks under his breath as Arthur shut the grand doors behind them. The loud thud that echoed off of the deteriorating walls proved once again they had been sealed off from the world. No escape.

"Let's go." Alfred said shakily.

Arthur sent him only a weary smile but it eased them both if only slightly. He ran his hand up and down Alfred's arm. Then, his grip loosened, and the connection was severed. They walked on with trembling hands, trembling legs, and trembling minds.

Alfred started to climb the staircase, Arthur following quietly behind him, winding round and round each twist and turn in the set of steps as it reached another floor. But they had a long way yet. Ivan lived on one of the highest floors, the second top, in fact. He felt important enough to be that high above the rest, but he was lacking the wealth to afford the top, the highest seat, the penthouse. Ivan held a grudge for that, and a tough one. Alfred had a house, quite a lot of money, too, certainly more than Ivan; it was something Ivan had been sitting on for years, but he never quite grew used to it. Or maybe he did. Alfred always found it hard to tell; Ivan faulted him for so many things, it was hard to tell if he was just doing it to spite him. He probably was. He probably wasn't.

"We're here," Arthur muttered, his attention turning from Alfred to the door that even seemed to emit its own deadly aura, "do you know what you're doing?"

"Yes." Alfred was uncharacteristically quiet. "It's the only way." he muttered to only himself, barely above whisper, but Arthur still heard. It didn't matter. He wasn't convincing anyone anymore than he already had, not even himself.

Alfred stood frozen centimetres from the door, looking it up and down. Then, he lightly brushed his knuckle over it, breathing once, sending Arthur a quick glance over his shoulder before placing a set of firm knocks on the door. He waited, his eyes falling to the floor, and eventually closing, wishing for a response, _anything._

There was no reply. He wasn't sure if that's what he was really hoping for all along.

"Maybe he isn't home?" Alfred said as he took a step away.

The one he was addressing only just then looked up.

Arthur gasped. He leaped forward. "_Alf_–_!_" The ground rushed up to Alfred. Something caught on him. Something pulled him skyward to his feet.

"Unlucky there!" a heavily accented voice said calmly, their hands firmly grasping someone by the shoulders, a sickly-sweet, innocent smile spreading across their face. It was _too _innocent. "You should watch your step, _Jones._"

Arthur lunged. He seized Ivan by the shoulders and pulled him back, causing him to stumble out of control. "Get off of him." Arthur hissed as he pulled Alfred away from Ivan, causing the American to stumble into his chest. Arthur wrapped his thin arms around Alfred protectively, wearing a scowl.

Ivan chuckled heartily. "No need for the shoving, _eh_, Arthur, hm?" he said, backing into a wall with a loud thump. He balled his hands tightly into fists as he pushed himself off the wall, once again towering over Arthur and Alfred as he stumbled back into place, centimetres from Alfred.

Ivan only found himself having eyes for only one of his many enemies, the one who went by Alfred; he figured he was the only reason for the whole disturbance, anyway, and he would do anything to terminate the little confrontation as quickly as he could. So, he got straight to the point, as always. "Why are you here, Alfred? Is it about the little phone call you terminated of mine? I'd like to discuss that myself."

Alfred didn't even pause for a second. "Ivan, I think this feud between us has reached... a point," he said, running through the speech he had rehearsed over and over in his mind, not even taking Ivan's words into consideration, "and it should really stop, don't you think?"

Arthur shifted his weight from leg to leg as he stood to the side, uselessly, tensely. Ivan narrowed his eyes. "I apologise Alfred, but I'd like to discuss–"

"I'd like you to undo what you did," Alfred's eyes fell to the ground before he looked up, regarding Ivan's piercing purple ones with an unmatched venom, "with the photo."

Ivan's eyes widened slightly as he tried to cover it. "I don't see what you think I can do about such things, Alfred, anymore than I have already. Do you have any suggestions for me?"

"Couldn't you, I don't know, _stop _the torment?" Alfred felt his hope slipping between his fingers every passing second, each piece escaping his grasp and shattering into thousands of shards.

Ivan stared at Alfred blankly before simply tilting his head a degree to the side. "Excuse me, Alfred, but I think you are mistaken." He paused with a slightly furrowed brow, scratching at his chin, before meeting Alfred's confused and anxious eyes again. "You haven't even been to school since, so how do you know about any teasing?"

Alfred didn't move. He kept his eyes locked on Ivan at all times. _Teasing? _Arthur prepared himself to speak up. The silence Alfred refused to fill was getting all too deathly. "It won't be just teasing, Ivan. Surely you must know that."

Ivan's eyes flickered to Arthur, regarding him with a glance before turning his eyes back to Alfred. "Ah, yes, but _you _must know that I don't exactly agree with your, as you put it, _relationship._"

Arthur darkened as Alfred flinched. "What," Arthur questioned, "so you won't help us, even after everything that you've caused?" Ivan just continued to stare at Alfred before he finally gave Arthur his attention for the first time that day, simply blinking into the silence. Then, Ivan didn't even twitch; he just shook his head side to side, closing his eyes peacefully. Arthur spluttered.

Arthur was getting more and more infuriated as he listened to the utter nonsense Ivan was babbling. Alfred just stared in blank shock. Ivan continued his speech. "Don't act so shocked, now. Your parents might have been difficult with Alfred, but in some ways, I understand."

"What do you mean?" Arthur choked out, standing in front of the tall Russian as Alfred opened and closed his mouth like he had just lost his voice, allowing himself to be pushed aside. "'_Understand'_, Ivan? What do you _understand?_"

Ivan seemed to consider this, internally debating between holding his tongue and doing the exact opposite. He chose what he believed most fitting. "Why, your relationship, Arthur. I dislike it, and I would rather you stopped flaunting it like that, like a pair of show pups."

Alfred could have sworn he saw Arthur's eye twitch, but he stayed silent. "'_Show pups_'? You think we are just a pair of dogs trying to do _what _exactly? Bathe in the victorious ridicule? Don't make me laugh." Arthur spat, folding his arms defensively over his chest.

Ivan, making Arthur's eyes widen with sheer horror and disgust, started _laughing. _"That is quite humorous, Arthur!" he smiled, scrunching his eyes up. He opened his eyes, a mysterious gleam full of intent in them. His sweet smile settled into a sinister smirk. His voice significantly darkened. "_You could have fooled me._"

Arthur let his jaw drop open, his teeth quickly clenching together as he hunched in on himself slightly, ready to pounce. "You are doing well at proving me right, I must say, Arthur!" Ivan continued, finding the words simply rolling off his tongue in the heat of the moment, _and who was stopping him? _"Hunched over, clenched teeth, narrowed eyes; I'm starting to doubt if you're even human at all." And that was it. Arthur felt something snap inside of him. That was all Arthur would allow for. _No escape, now. _

A fist went flying straight at Ivan, causing him to double over as he clutched at his throat, willing for the life to be sucked back into his lungs as they pleaded for the precious air. He looked up, his eyes widened with the pain as he begged for breath, staring into the burning eyes of his weak attacker. Or, so he once _thought _was weak.

"That's what you get, you intolerable," Arthur flung another punch as he shouted, hitting Ivan square in the stomach, "_backwards_," he kicked his leg out at Ivan's shin, sending him to the floor on his hands and knees in a split second, crying out from the agony and his burning, suffocating lungs, "_despicable_," he lunged to pick Ivan up by the shoulders, struggling from his enormous weight, but soon he was easily lifted into the air by another pair of larger, tanned hands, "_bastard!_"

Ivan was rammed back, his head hitting the concrete wall with an excruciating crack and a long, choked groan as he coughed into himself, sliding down the wall despite his efforts to keep himself up.

Ivan barely mustered a weak chuckle as he choked out the last, rough words that Arthur and Alfred would hear from him in quite some time, "_This is all you deserve_," he cackled a weak chuckle, barely above a whisper in his pained, hoarse voice, "_I regret... absolutely nothing._"

"That's what I thought." Arthur managed as he walked away from Ivan's corpse-like body that was sprawled over the corridor of his apartment building.

_He never even made it home_, Alfred thought absently as he stepped over Ivan's long legs, trying his best to comprehend and process all that had just happened. But apparently, he wasn't the only one.

"Get back here, _now!_" a ear-shattering shriek pierced their eardrums, causing Arthur and Alfred to turn around in equal shock and horror, already suffering from those tricky symptoms enough. They hadn't even heard a door open.

"Natalia, stay back!" Alfred warned as he blocked Arthur with his outstretched arms, but what she did next surprised him. "Natalia...?"

"Don't be a fool, Alfred," Natalia snapped as she turned away from her broken brother, "I'm ashamed you would think I'd even _look _at _that_, the disgusting, cowering–"

Arthur rounded on her, storming up the stairway and shoving Alfred's defending arm to its owner's side. "If you want to pick a fight with me just say it to my face, you ugly–"

"Don't you dare even say it!" she shouted as she lunged at Arthur, who was quickly pulled to the side by a strong hand.

Natalia growled as she steadied herself with a tight clutch on the stairway railing, barely saving herself from landing face-first on the hard concrete steps, her knuckles turning a deathly white. Her narrowed eyes darted to Alfred, Arthur's protector. _Not for long_, she thought as she straightened the new creases out of her clothes, carefully stepping towards Alfred who once again stood confidently in front of the shorter boy somewhere behind him. But she could see him shaking.

"Stupid, stupid, Alfred," Natalia mused, her lips curving into a confident smirk as her eyes narrowed dangerously, "I don't think you should have done that."

Alfred forced his voice to not even falter, to not even break, to not even quieten. It felt like he was preparing himself to go to war, and now he was screaming his battle cry at the top of his lungs. "Do what? Its more than you've ever done for your dear and true _brother_."

"It's not that, you idiot!" Natalia leaped forwards, capturing Alfred by the shoulder. "What of your pact? What of what you agreed to?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Alfred retaliated, trying to shake himself out of her grasp.

"Lies! You wouldn't hurt my brother if he didn't hurt you!" she shouted, pushing Alfred back into a wall which he thumped into, fuming as he pushed himself off.

"That never happened, Natalia! I told him to _back off_ and if he didn't then _this _would happen!" Alfred shouted, standing his ground to the ever ferocious Natalia, taking _every _piece of his will to simply not shove her back.

Amid the shouting and commotion that blurred and was regurgitated in Ivan's fogged mind, the Russian was slowly regaining his strength, recovering as he pushed himself up from the floor, leaning all his weight onto the frail barrier that cut his numb body off from a hundred feet tumble down a billion stairs. How _unfortunate _that would be; nobody could even think to desire that, could they?

"My brother should have never trusted you, you're disgusting!" Natalia rambled, sending Alfred's whole front flying straight into the wall as she shoved him once again. But he foresaw it.

Alfred stretched his palms out, rocking on his elbows as he stopped the deadly collision between his head and the plaster wall. He turned around, his eyes scanning the whole hall in the process, and that was when he noticed something. He noticed something terribly and awfully _wrong. _Something was undeniably out of place, and in a place that that something _really _shouldn't have been in.

"Arthur," Ivan breaths were laboured as he stared wide-eyed at his onlooker, "I am impressed."

Arthur scowled darkly. "If that's all you can bring yourself to say then you're weaker and stupider than I once thought."

"I do not know what you wish me to do," Ivan said, his brow furrowing slightly as he thought, "but you already know that I don't like seeing you and Alfred like that, it _disgusts_ me."

Ivan's remark had shaken him, but Arthur was determined to not let that look seep through. "If it pains you to see it, why would you take a_ photo _of it and spread it around?"

Ivan didn't even appear to register Arthur's slightly shaken stature; he was deep in thought, perhaps even shaken _himself._ "I'm not quite sure, as I told Alfred. Although I really do dislike the image, I knew at least Alfred would find some discomfort in it, too, and it was a sacrifice I was willing to make at the time."

"Alfred..." Arthur's voice was murmured, his attention placed somewhere else as Ivan's words began to sink in. "He really _does _seem bothered by this, all of it, everything, doesn't he?"

Ivan didn't seem affected in the slightest. "'_Seem?_' But yes, Arthur, that's why I did it. It seems to have had the same effect on you," Ivan noticed, his mind trailing back to a previous memory, "hasn't it?"

Arthur's eyes widened as he suddenly felt a lot more awake. "Has it?"

"Yes," Ivan agreed plainly, scratching at his head with a casual stare fixed on Arthur's frozen form, "but Alfred is most shamed. I haven't ever seen him so scared. I thought at first it would be rather pleasing to me, but it has left me feeling surprisingly different."

Arthur turned up his nose. "And it should," he muttered bitterly, glaring at Ivan with the familiar burning and bubbling of rage as it returned to him to boil, "you must know why Alfred is here at our school, and despite all of it, knowing all you would do, you did it anyway, just to satisfy your own selfish desires. If that's not what a monster is made out of, then I don't know what is."

Arthur stood boldly, proudly; deep scowl in place despite the pure hurt that that lingered behind his eyes. "If you think we should be ignored," Arthur said, his eyes holding a regrettable amount of pain, "then I really am starting to doubt who the _real _human is, what you think or not."

Not wanting to want to hear a response, Arthur then turned away, slamming his feet especially forcefully onto the concrete steps of the staircase before grabbing Natalia, hissing something under his breath, causing her to scamper off to her brother's side as quick as lightning. She quickly dusted her brother off and pulled him aside.

Arthur then turned to Alfred, his bitter expression softening as he greeted him with a fond smile and a tight hug, rubbing his hand up and down his back soothingly.

Natalia didn't hold her tongue as she caught a passing glance at the disgusting display of affection between the door and the frame it was held on, hissing down at them, never letting go of the small preferences that separated them. And that was it. And it was _more _than enough in not only her eyes.

Alfred wasn't sure quite what brought him to do it. Maybe it was the overwhelming sense of hope and hopelessness he felt when he looked Arthur in the eyes, his glassed over, thoughtful, beautiful eyes. Maybe it was the caught-in-the-middle, lost and bundled feelings that nestled inside of him, the kind that made him feel like his being had been ripped apart, every single loose end unravelling itself from the messy bundle it pretended it really was. He never really _was _a sphere of even ends. He was always conflicted, he was always lost. But that was just it.

There was a spark of some feeling inside of him. Alfred wasn't sure what it was, but whether it was pure hope or just plain mistaken relief, it was there, and he was glad. Maybe he _would _be okay. And even though the feeling only lasted a mere second, it was enough for him to take a blind leap over everything. Or, it felt like he could, anyway. Perhaps his hope would drop once he realised what Ivan's lack of cooperation really meant.

Perhaps Alfred would, in time, realise that a spark starts a fire. Perhaps Alfred would, in time, _really _see where all the light and warm feelings were born, what they were _really _made of. But that was in time, and in the time he found himself in, no matter what brought him to do it, he lightly rested his hands on either of Arthur's cheeks. He tenderly bent down and leaned in.

Arthur stared into Alfred's slowly closing eyes, processing what he was doing after all that had happened, and in a way he thought it was the bravest thing he had ever seen the self-proclaimed hero do. He leaned in upon this realisation as well, feeling Alfred's warm lips brush against his, before he pushed in. Alfred passionately pushed back, capturing Arthur smiling against him.

It would have been perfect if it wasn't for a certain light-haired, light-hearted blond walking in on the scene, breath quickly catching.

It would have been perfect if it wasn't for Arthur's eyes opening with a sudden amount of speed before pushing on Alfred's shoulders, parting their lips.

It would have been perfect if it wasn't for the sudden temperature drop, racing hearts suddenly beating beyond belief for a whole new, awful reason, and the realisation settling upon each and every person present as if they had just been pelted with stone-hard bricks.

Arthur was quiet, his widened eyes staring as his grip consciously tightened on Alfred's shoulder.

Alfred's eyes were darting between the onlooker and his escape, but finally, they darted to Arthur. "What?"

Arthur almost couldn't believe how urgent he sounded, but when he shot down the stairs like a bullet with his sudden iron grip on Alfred's arm there wasn't another thing on his mind but the meaning of all he pushed down as he ran past. "_Go!_"

* * *

**Look how overdramatic I am; it's awful, I know, please, if you can find it in your heart, forgive me for the sheer amount of angst I feel the need to cram into every fanfiction story I write (maybe that's just how my brain works, but I guess that this story kinda called for it, well, as soon as the bullying aspect came to play, anyway, that becoming the major theme, apparently). **

**PS. Matthew and Francis pay a little visit next chapter... as well as the rest of the not-yet-seen Hetalia cast as school starts up again for the gang! What fun I am writing. **

**On a side note, this story probably has a few chapters left, but I have made the half-way mark, if not the two-third mark, for sure. **

**Till next time, my beautiful, brilliant readers (if you guys are still there, but I know you are from all your reviews, all of which are greatly appreciated) ~!**


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